
Western Range 


OTHER TALES 


EUGENE O. MAYFIELD 








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— v 

Fairy Talcs 

of the 

Western Range 

======= and ============ 

OTHER 

TALES 




By EUGENE O. MAYFIELD 

“REX M” 


N\ 


JACOB NORTH 4 CO., PRINTERS, LINCOLN. 



123 

. M 4sz 


I THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 
Two Cop»f:a Received 

iUL 23 1302 

COPVRIOMT ENTRY 

'L.'S - IPf O'L. 

CI AS8 ds XXo. No. 

3 ^loi' 

COPY 3. 

r*rm m *r.i " >■■■ ■ ■ ■ r - r.. , , — „ 


COPYRIGHT 1902 

BY 

E. O. MAYFIELD 


AUTHOR'S NOTE 


This book is written along the line of the 
stories the author has published in various peri- 
odicals — their aim being to entertain the boys 
and girls of America with clean fiction. The 
“fairy” tales are all founded in the West, and 
the subjects treated are western. Hence to the 
boys and girls of the West these pages are 
dedicated. 








CONTENTS 


A Cowboy Alone with His Conscience 7 

A Visit to a Wonderful Country 9 

The Cowboy’s Dream 61 

Look-a-Bill Hollow Wild Cat 69 

Sand Storm on the Plains 77 

Wild Duck’s Adventures 86 

Long Horn Loses His Temper 94 

Old Monarch Tells a Story 96 

Bright’s First Trip to Pike’s Peak 102 

Nipper Fools His Grandmother 108 

Short Horn Gets Information 115 

Hunting the Water Hole 120 

How the Maverick Came to Reform 126 

Reunion of Steers on the Rawhide 131 

Misfortunes of Jenks 134 

On the North Fork of the Platte 142 

Jumper and Tot’s Wedding Trip 149 


/ 


yl 'Cewboif Alone XOith 

'Conscience 

When I ride into the mountains on my little broncho bird, 
Where my ears are never pelted with the bawlin’ o’ the herd, 
An’ a sort o’ dreamy quiet hangs upon the Western air, 

An’ there ain’t no animation to be noticed anywhere, 

Then I sort o’ feel oneasy, git a notion in my head 
I’m the only livin’ mortal — everybody else is dead, 

An’ I feel a queer sensation, rather skeery-like an’ odd 
When there ain’t nobody near me ’ceptin’ God! 

Every rabbit that I startle from its shaded restin’ place 
Seems a furry shaft o’ silence shootin’ into noiseless space, 

An’ a rattlesnake a crawlin’ through the rocks so old an’ gray 
Helps along the ghostly feelin’ in a rather startlin’ way. 
Every breeze that dares to whisper does it with a bated breath, 
Every bush stands grim and silent in a sort o’ livin’ death ; 
Tell you what a feller’s feelin’s gives him many an icy prod 
When there ain’t nobody near him ’ceptin’ God. 

Somehow alius git to thinkin’ of the error of my ways, 

An’ my memory goes a wingin’ back to childhood’s happy 
days, 

When a mother, now a restin’ in the grave so dark and deep, 
Used to listen while I’d whisper: “ Now I lay me down to 
sleep.” 

Then a sort o’ guilty feelin’ goes a surgin’ through my breast, 
An’ I wonder how I’ll av’rage at the final judgment test; 
Conscience alius welts it to me with a mighty cuttin’ rod 
When there ain’t nobody near me ’ceptin’ God! 


8 


FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 


Take the very meanest sinner that creation ever saw, 

One that don’t respect religion more’n he respects the law, 
One that never does an action that’s commendable or good, 
An’ immerse him for a season ont in Nature’s solitude, 

An’ the cogwheels of his conscience ’ll be rattled out o’ gear 
More’n if he ’tended preaching every Sunday in the year, 

For his sins ’ll come a ridin’ through his cranium rough shod 
When there ain’t nobody near him ’ceptin’ God. 

—James Barton Adams. 


Denver. 


'Chief Round Eicon’s £)cmain 

HERE WERE NO HAPPIER CHIL- 
dren anywhere than two little Omaha 
boys the day they got on an Elkhorn 
railway train and started on a jour- 
ney to the Black Hills. 

For weeks and weeks neither had 
talked of much else, and now that 
they were actually started their joy 
knew no bounds. Jack was the eldest, 
a little past eight, while Teddy was almost seven. 
They were the sons of a big railroad man who said 
to the stork when it brought Jack : “If one boy is 
a good thing to have about, two will be better,” 
and when the old bird came again it brought 
Teddy. 

On the side of a pretty mountain at Hot 
Springs lived the boys’ grandmother, and they 
were going to visit her. 

“It seems that this train will never go,” said 
Teddy, as he impatiently tapped the window-sill 
with his fingers. 

“Guess they are watering the iron horse,” re^ 
plied Jack. 



10 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Just then the conductor cried “All-aboard,” 
and the train started and was soon smoothly 
gliding along over the steel rails, past the old 
exposition grounds; on past pretty Irvington, 
and then into the Elkhorn valley. 

It was in June, the prettiest month of the 
year; the time when the first rosy apples hang 
in clusters from the trees in the orchard. The 
earth was carpeted with emerald, and flowers 
bloomed everywhere. Far and near the farmers 
were busy in their fields, and the cattle grazed on 
the hills and in the valleys. It was a scene never 
to be forgotten, even by such little fellows as 
Jack and Teddy. 

After sweeping, like a great bird, off to the 
right, the train made its first stop of importance 
at Fremont. The boys were at the car window 
straining their necks to see all they could, when 
Mose, the colored porter, in whose charge the 
children had been placed, told them to come with 
him and he would see that they did not get left 
when the train started. 

Just as Jack stepped off the car an old woman, 
with big rings in her ears, and skin the color of 
copper, came hurrying up to him and said : “Dis 
milk’s fine for boys.” “But I don’t care for any 


CHIEF ROUND MOON'S DOMAIN 


11 


milk,” replied Jack. “De oranges fine, too,” 
insisted the old woman, but the boys had a bas- 
ket of fruit in the car. Leaving the vendor they 
accompanied the porter up the platform, waiting 
for the baggage to be changed. 

In a little while the train started, and as new 
beauties were unfolded the boys confided to the 
porter that they never suspected that the world 
was so large. 

Then it began to grow dark and the lamps in 
the car were lighted, and Jack and Teddy got out 
their lunch basket and ate their first meal on 
the cars. 

My, how those boys slept that night — slept as 
soundly as if tucked in their own bed back in 
Omaha, while the train sped along at the rate 
of forty-five miles an hour. 

Mose called them the next morning, a little 
after sunrise, so they could see more of the world, 
and for some time they watched the scenery 
from their berth. 

While they slept the train had passed on to a 
new and far country, and instead of miles and 
miles of green fields, there stretched before their 
vision an endless plain of grazing land, dotted 
here and there with well-kept ranches and im- 
mense herds of cattle. 


12 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

As the train made a slight curve to the left 
and the rays of the sun shot past, and on out 
far in advance, Teddy clapped his hands «and 
cried: “Oh, jolly,” so loud that an old gentle- 
man was aroused from his late nap and told 
Mose to keep the boys still. “But I see a moun- 
tain,” insisted Teddy. “There it is, way over 
ahead of us. The sun is shining on it, and I 
think it has snow on the top.” 

Mose looked in the direction indicated, and 
what do you suppose he saw? No, not a moun- 
tain, for the mountains were too far away to be 
seen; but he saw something that made him 
laugh. 

“What makes you laugh?” asked Teddy. “I 
am sure those are mountains.” 

“No, dem are not mounteens,” replied Mose. 
“Dey am san’ duns,” meaning sand dunes. 

The train stopped at the little station of 
Smith wick, and when Jack and Teddy looked on 
the map and saw that they were very near the 
Ogalalla Indian reservation they called Mose 
and asked if there was any danger of them being 
scalped. “Not on dis train, boys,” replied Mose. 
Then he added, “If any of dem red skins com’er 
foolin’ ’bout heah, Ise got somfin’ to say.” 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 13 

The boys believed that Mose was powerful 
enough to cope with a whole band of Indians, 
and as soon as he told them he was on the look- 
out they felt that they had nothing more to fear. 

By the time breakfast had been eaten the 
train had reached Buffalo Gap, and Mose was 
importuned to tell the boys why such a queer 
name had been selected for a town. “Is it be- 
cause there are a whole lot of buffalo around 
here?” asked Teddy. “No, it am jest ’cause dey 
wanted to name de place dat way, I guess,” ex- 
plained Mose. 

But the boys were not satisfied, and when the 
conductor came through they asked him to tell 
them all about the town and why it had been 
named Buffalo Gap. “I’ll be pleased to tell you,” 
said the conductor, “if you will just wait until I 
come back.” “We’ll wait,” replied Jack. 

After the conductor had gone through the 
train and taken up his tickets he came and sat 
down with the boys, and this is the story he told 
them : 

“Many years ago there were thousands and 
thousands of wild buffalo scattered all over the 
country through which we have traveled since 
we left Omaha. They were more plentiful than 


2 


14 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

the cattle are now and went about in great herds. 
There were Indians on the plains in those days, 
and each summer and fall they would kill 
enough buffalo to last them through the winter. 
The squaws would go along and cut the buffalo 
meat up and dry it in the sun, while they dressed 
the hides to be used as material from which moc- 
casins and tepees could be made.” 

“What’s a tepee?” inquired Teddy. 

“A tepee,” explained the conductor, “is the 
house in which the Indians live. Some Indians 
call them wick-ups, some lodges, some wigwams, 
and still other tepees, but they all answer the 
same purpose.” 

“But what has that got to do with Buffalo 
Gap?” asked one of the boys. 

“As I was going to tell you,” continued the 
conductor, “there were many buffalo out here. 
In the summer and fall they would range out on 
the plains and down the valleys, a portion of 
which you have seen as we came along. They 
liked this part of the West because the grass was 
so tall and full of sweetness. In the late fall 
they would go back up into the foot-hills of the 
mountains, where they would winter. Well, one 
fall the Indians failed, for some reason, to get 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 15 

enough buffalo meat dried to do them through 
the winter, and when they found they were run- 
ning short they started on a hunt. 

“There were over a hundred braves in the 
party, and they found a big herd of buffalo over 
in the hills not far from Cascade, and began to 
chase them. The buffalo regretted to leave 
their warm winter quarters, but they knew the 
Indians would kill them if they did not, so they 
started east toward where Fairbum is now lo- 
cated. Mile after mile the Indians and buffalo 
raced along. Occasionally the sharp report of a 
rifle would ring out and down would go a big 
buffalo, but this had no effect on the rest of the 
herd, except to make them run the harder. 

“Finally the herd turned south, where they 
knew there was an opening leading out to the 
plains. Once out of the foot-hills, they felt, they 
could scatter and get away, for a buffalo can run 
almost as fast as a horse. 

“The Indians did their best to change the 
course of the herd, but without avail, and at 
last they came to the opening and passed out. 
From that time to this the locality has been 
known as Buffalo Gap, and that is how the Elk- 
horn came to name it such.” 


16 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Grandma was there to meet the boys when 
they arrived at the unique little stone station 
house that stands on the bank of Fall river. “Oh, 
we had such a fine trip,” cried Teddy, as he 
clapped his hands with joy. “We saw most all 
of the world, except the buffalo and Indians,” 
added Jack, “and the conductor told us all about 
them, so that was almost as good.” 

A carriage was in waiting and the boys were 
soon on their way to grandma’s home, and for 
several days were as busy as boys generally are. 
There was so much to see — everything was new 
to them. One day they would climb to the top 
of Battle mountain, where it is said hundreds 
of Indians were killed in a war between opposing 
tribes ; the next day they would go to the plunge, 
a great body of clear, tepid water, where they 
could dive about and “duck” each other to their 
hearts’ content. Then there were the different 
mineral springs to visit, the burros to ride, and 
one day they went with a party of acquaintances 
over to Cascade and saw “spouting springs,” as 
Jack called them — springs that forced water 
away up into the air, and in falling on limbs of 
trees and shrubbery left glistening crystals of 
mineral which shone like so many diamonds. 


CHIEF ROUND MOON'S DOMAIN 


IT 


II. 

The days seemed to just run into each other, 
and had they consisted of twice twenty-four 
hours Jack and Teddy would not have grown 
weary of sight-seeing. 

When they arose one morning their grandma 
told them if they hurried and eat their break- 
fast they could go with a coach load of tourists 
to Wind cave. 

“What on earth is Wind cave?” asked Teddy. 

“It is a great cave about twelve miles north 
of Hot Springs,” explained their grandma, “and 
is said to be the most wonderful place of the 
kind in the world.” 

“What can we see there?” inquired Jack. 

“I have never been there,” replied grandma, 
“but I know many people who have, and they all 
say the trip is one never to be regretted. I also 
know all about how the cave came to be found,” 
added the old lady. 

“Tell us about it,” both boys said in chorus, 
and grandma told them the story : 

“It was several years ago,” she began, “that 
a cowboy killed an antelope on the side of a hill 
near where the mouth, of the cave is. After the 
animal fell he got down off his pony and pre- 


18 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

pared to dress the carcass. As he stooped over 
he heard a hissing sound close by and jumped 
back in fright, fearing that a rattlesnake was 
about to strike. Then he looked all around, but 
could see nothing of the snake. Again he ap- 
proached the antelope and was stooping over 
when the hissing noise came louder, he thought, 
than before. Looking up suddenly he saw a flat 
stone on the ground moving up and down much 
like the lid of a teakettle. The cowboy’s curios- 
ity was aroused and he went to the stone and 
turned it over with his foot. As he did so a 
blast of wind rushed out of a deep hole and blew 
his hat far up out of his reach. Placing the 
stone over the hole, the cowboy went back to the 
ranch and told what he had seen. In time the 
hole was examined and it was found that it ex- 
tended down into the ground. The opening was 
blasted out and the interior explored. The 
farther the workmen penetrated the hole the 
more surprised they were, for there were mil- 
lions and millions of the most beautiful crystal- 
lizations and water formations imaginable. At 
last the cave fell into the hands of a company of 
men who explored it thoroughly and opened it 
up as a place of amusement and interesting 
study.” 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 19 

“How far has the cave been gone into?” asked 
Jack. 

“I can’t say,” replied his grandma. Then she 
added: “I have heard that one of the guides — 
for they have to use guides to keep people from 
getting lost — traveled over sixty miles in the 
cave, and when he came out his friends had given 
him up for dead, thinking he had lost himself in 
some of the dark passages. The guide told of 
the pretty things he had seen, which led to far- 
ther investigations. The result now is that you 
can walk for several miles down in the passages, 
from three to four hundred feet under the sur- 
face, and see things that it has taken untold ages 
for nature to form.” 

And this is the cave that Jack and Teddy vis- 
ited and where they met with some wonderful 
experiences. 

At the entrance of Wind cave each of the 
party was robed in rough outer clothing and 
given a candle to carry. Then they started down 
the steep incline, a guide here and a guide there, 
to keep the visitors from breaking off some of 
the beautiful crystals that hung all about. Some 
were heavy stalactites that looked like pillars of 
marble; some were smaller, and in other places 


20 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

most wonderful webs of crystals were found, 
that resembled the meshes of a net. When Teddy 
saw this glistening mass of loveliness he said to 
Jack: “I’m glad Tommy Blower isn’t here, for 
he’d be sure to throw something into those pretty 
things.” 

At various places along the way passages 
were found leading off to the right and left. 
Some were large enough for a grown person to 
pass through, and others were so small that even 
a boy could hardly effect an entrance. And into 
one of these Jack and Teddy managed to dis- 
appear. 

It was several minutes before the boys were 
missed. The guide in the rear thought they were 
ahead of him, as they were when leaving “Para- 
dise,” but now they were gone. In vain the 
guides searched and called the boys’ names — 
only an empty echo to their voices came back. 

III. 

After the boys had squeezed in between 
crevice after crevice, up one steep place and 
down another, for nearly an hour, they heard 
water dripping and soon came upon a little 
spring that bubbled out through the cliffs. They 


CHIEF ROUND MOON'S DOMAIN 


21 


were both thirsty, and after drinking all they 
wanted they heard a voice say : “Go into the first 
crevice beyond the spring and follow it until 
you see a light. There’s nothing to fear.” 

“That must be a ghost,” exclaimed Teddy. 
“There are no ghosts,” replied Jack, “so let us 
do as the voice said.” 

Passing the spring, a dark crevice was found 
a few feet farther on and the boys entered it. 
Before they had gone very far their candles were 
snatched out of their hands and they were in 
total darkness. Western boys are brave, how- 
ever, and Jack and Teddy determined to learn 
all about the strange land they were in. They 
groped along for several yards until they came 
to an opening where -it was as bright as day. 
There was not a single lamp of any kind to be 
seen, nor was there any way for the sun to get 
down there, so far as they knew. The light, it 
seemed, came from the myriads of crystalliza- 
tions which studded the roof and sides of the 
enclosure. 

While the boys were still gazing about in won- 
derment a jolly little man came out of the side 
of the cave and said: “I welcome you to my 
country, and I hope you will enjoy yourselves 
every moment while you are here.” 


22 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“But who are you?” asked Jack, for he had 
never seen such a queer little body before in his 
life. 

“My name is Chief Round Moon,” replied the 
little man, “and this country belongs to me, as it 
did to my forefathers since the beginning of time. 
Now if you will excuse me a moment I will go 
and dress myself in my natural garb,” he added. 

The little man was back again before Teddy 
and Jack hardly had time to think, but, instead of 
being dressed in a long gown, as at first, he stood 
before them in the gaudy trappings of an Indian 
chief. His skin was a light copper color and his 
chin dimpled, while his nose bowed up in the 
middle. When he smiled it was as the laugh of 
a happy child. 

“I know you boys must be hungry,” he said, 
“after your long tramp; so come with me and 
while you eat I will try and entertain you with 
a brief account of what you may see if you care 
to.” 

They crossed the cave and entered another 
large room, lighted in the same manner as the 
other one. “This is my dining room,” he said. 
“Pray be seated and the Princess will soon be 
here with your dinner.” 


CHIEF ROUND MOON’S DOMAIN 23 

“But where is the table?” asked Teddy. 

The chief laughed and pointed to a mat made 
of rushes that lay in the center of the room. 
“That is what you would call a table,” he said, 
“but we call it by another name. However, it 
answers the same purpose, and if that be true 
there is no need to worry.” 

A rattling of shells on a wooden tray attracted 
the attention of the boys and as they looked up 
an Indian girl, prettier than any girl they had 
ever seen, entered the room. “This is Princess 
Bright Eyes,” said the chief, by way of introduc- 
tion. “She is my daughter, and, like myself, 
takes pleasure in doing you honor.” 

Princess Bright Eyes made a low bow and 
placed the tray on the mat. As she passed out 
of the room the boys saw that she was even 
smaller than her father, whose head did not 
come up to Teddy’s shoulder. Her attire was in- 
teresting. She had on a loose blouse-like waist, 
covered with the prettiest beads the boys had 
ever seen. Her dress was dark and sparkled as 
if set in precious stones, and her leggings and 
tiny little moccasins were beaded. 

But the boys were too hungry to think much 
about how their host and hostess were dressed, 


24 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

and they began to eat as heartily as if they had 
been fasting for days, instead of but a few hours. 

Chief Round Moon did not disturb them until 
Teddy moved back from the mat and said he 
could eat no more. What their meal had con- 
sisted of they did not know, and being polite 
little fellows they dared not ask. All they knew 
was that the food was good and tasted unlike 
anything they had ever eaten. 

Jack had just finished his meal when the Prin- 
cess came in with the dessert and insisted that 
the boys must try some of her favorites. Then 
she placed on the mat a dish of the oddest pink 
and purple berries that ever grew down under 
the earth. 

While the boys were eating the berries the 
old chief told them something of the wonder- 
land into which they had come. “I know you 
will be surprised,” he said, “when I tell you I 
am over one thousand years old, yet it is true. 
The Princess, whom you just saw, is my 
daughter, and she is nearly five hundred years 
old. I have always lived in Wind cave, and 
when I am two thousand years old I will die and 
be buried in a crevice that you boys passed just 
before you came to the spring. All of our peo- 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


25 


pie live to be two thousand years old, unless they 
meet with an accident, for accidents happen 
down here just as they do up in your world. My 
race is the oldest in existence, and long before 
Adam entered the garden of Eden my people 
made their home here.” 

“But where do you get your clothing and 
food?” asked Jack, as he and Teddy left the mat 
and took a seat on a gray stone. 

“My domain is greater than you suppose,” re- 
plied Chief Bound Moon. “It extends many 
leagues in all directions, except upward. I dare 
not go in that direction, for I would then lose 
my power, and harm might come to my people. 
My castle is a short ways to the left of where we 
are now — perhaps a league and a half. This is 
my summer home. After you are rested I will 
take you to my castle and arrange for your jour- 
ney through my country.” 

“We will be delighted to go,” said Teddy, “but 
won’t you please tell us something of your coun- 
try down here before we start?” 

“I have no objection,” replied Chief Round 
Moon, “but it would be pleasanter for you to 
wait and let the Princess explain to you as you 
go along, for she will be your guide.” 


26 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

The boys thanked the old chief, and after call- 
ing the Princess to accompany them they all 
started for the castle. As they passed along the 
chief told several funny stories, and by the time 
the castle was reached the boys were laughing 
until tears ran down their cheeks. 

“I am sorry that you cannot get into my 
castle/’ said the chief as they passed through a 
gate where a little Indian stood guard with a 
rattle box in his hand, instead of a gun, “but you 
can walk about the grounds and peek in the 
windows and doors if you care to.” 

Jack replied that he was sorry he had grown 
so large. 

The castle was built of pink and blue crystals. 
It had a wide veranda running around its front, 
and there were many turrets and domes. Out in 
front was a wall with openings cut through, 
but so small that the boys could not pass. Teddy 
solved the problem by jumping over, and Jack 
soon followed. Looking through the doors and 
windows the rooms were found to be furnished 
very plainly. On the walls hung many different 
kinds of skins from animals, and the floors were 
carpeted with rushes. In the throne room was a 
raised platform on which stood a little tepee. 


CHIEF ROUND MOON’S DOMAIN 


27 


The chief explained that the tepee was not for 
use, but merely placed there according to the 
customs of his people. “Nor does a chief ever 
use a platform when holding council with his 
people/’ added the old chief. “We always meet 
on the level.” 

While the visitors were examining the castle 
the servants of the chief had been passing in and 
out — all little men and women like Chief Round 
Moon and Princess Bright Eyes. None of them 
appeared to pay any attention to the boys un- 
less they were spoken to, and then they would 
politely answer such questions as were put to 
them. 

By this time it was late, and while the boys 
were yet looking about the castle they heard the 
sound of a bell, and a moment later they were 
greeted with a weird melody which came from 
tiny chimes up in the belfry over the watch 
tower. When the music had ceased Chief Round 
Moon said : “It is growing late and we had better 
prepare for supper.” Then he said something to 
a servant, who ran away as fast as his short legs 
would let him, and soon returned carrying a new 
mat, which he spread on the ground. A moment 
later other servants came out with refreshments 


28 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

and the boys were invited to be seated. For the 
second time since entering this strange country 
Teddy and Jack were guests at the table of Chief 
Bound Moon. 

After they had finished their meal the chief 
looked at his watch, which was not much larger 
than one of the buttons on Jack’s waistcoat, and 
said that he would have their beds prepared and 
on the morrow they would start on their trip. 
Then he clapped his hands and half a hundred 
little Indians came out with robes and furs and 
spread them on the pavement in front of the 
main entrance to the castle. “You boys can 
sleep here with safety,” said the old chief, “yet 
I am sorry that I cannot give you better accom- 
modations.” 

The boys again thanked the chief and lay 
down to rest — and to dream of the wonderful 
things they had seen since they left the home of 
their grandma in Hot Springs. Teddy was soon 
fast asleep and Jack was ready to follow when 
he heard a slight noise, and looking up saw that 
their bed was being guarded by ten little Indian 
men, each armed with a long reed, at the end of 
which was a pretty rattle box covered with col- 
ored beads. The last thing Jack remembered 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 29 

that night was the erect forms of the wee guards 
of honor, as they noiselessly tramped back and 
forward. Then he, too, fell asleep and dreamed 
of being scalped with a rattle box covered with 
red and blue beads. 

IV. 

After Jack and Teddy had eaten their break- 
fast the Princess and they started on their visit 
to the various places of interest. When they 
had passed the spring where the boys had heard 
the voice in the cliffs Princess Bright Eyes 
said : “My venerable father, Chief Round Moon, 
has instructed me to go with you to all parts of 
his domain you desire and show you how his peo- 
ple live and what they do. The first place we 
will visit will be an Indian village. You must 
not expect to see our people armed with rattle 
boxes down there, for they are not. They are 
warriors and carry bows and arrows, and all of 
them have tomahawks. This is necessary be- 
cause they must be prepared to defend their 
chief and go on the hunt to get game for their 
families. They will not injure you, however, as 
no one here ever harms another, unless there is 
just provocation.” 


3 


30 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“We’ll be good/’ said Jack, and Teddy nodded 
his approval. 

They traveled for some time along a dark 
passage, the Princess leading the way with a 
lighted torch. The boys had begun to wonder 
when they were to come to the village, and Teddy 
was on the point of asking, when it began to 
grow light. “We are almost out in the sunlight,” 
said the Princess, as she extinguished her torch 
and left it in a hollow place in the side of the 
stone wall. 

The boys observed it was getting as light as 
day, yet they saw no sun until suddenly they 
came out into an opening, surrounded by green 
trees, and then the rays of the queerest little sun 
burst forth. “What a funny sun,” said Jack. “It 
isn’t half so large as the last time I saw it.” 

“You never saw that sun before,” replied the 
Princess. “It is not the same sun that shines 
on you. We have a little moon, too, and they 
are both controlled by the same invisible and 
all-wise power that moves the planets on the 
earth.” 

“But why don’t Chief Bound Moon have his 
castle out here on the open?” asked one of the 
boys. 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


31 


“He likes the stillness of the rock formations 
best,” replied the Princess; “yet you must not 
think he does not get rays of sunlight, for he 
does. There are passages leading through the 
rocks which carry reflections of the sun from 
point to point, by the aid of crystallizations, un- 
til the castle is reached, as well as the darker 
passages, and the sheen from the precious stones 
and crystallizations affords all the light neces- 
sary. And even if there were no sun, we would 
have artificial lights.” 

After passing through the open space the boys 
were taken up an incline, and on looking down- 
ward the most wonderful country they had ever 
seen spread out before them. It was a fairyland 
in reality. Running through the valley was a 
clear stream of water, which the Princess told 
them was called the Elkhorn. 

“Was the stream named after the railroad 
Jack and I came to Hot Springs on?” asked 
Teddy. 

“No, the railroad was named ages after the 
river was,” replied the Princess, and the boys 
laughed. 

“Now we will go down in the valley,” said the 
Princess, “and after you have traveled a little 


32 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

ways we will come to the outer edge of the In- 
dian village.” 

Skirting the stream for half a league they 
came suddenly upon a village of tepees, scattered 
much the same as those of the Indians the boys 
had read about. A pack of little Indian dogs 
came to greet the visitors and barked savagely 
until the Princess spoke to them, and then they 
all tried to greet her with a kiss. At one tepee 
two old squaws were dressing a hide that had 
been taken from an elk, the size of an ordinary 
cat. The horns were lying on the grass and the 
boys saw that they were smaller than anything 
of the kind they had ever seen. Playing on the 
common were dozens of little Indian boys and 
girls, who showed no fear when the strangers 
came among them. 

As the party advanced into the village they 
began to meet the braves. Some of them were 
dressed for the hunt, and some of them had red 
and blue paint on their faces, showing they were 
ready for war, if Chief Round Moon called them. 
Princess Bright Eyes motioned to one of the 
sub-chiefs and he immediately advanced and sa- 
luted. He was told that Jack and Teddy were 
from the other world, and had been sent to the 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


33 


village by her father. The sub-chief, whose 
name was Ring-in-the-Toe, bowed to the boys, 
as if they had been royal personages and, turn- 
ing, walked rapidly away. In a minute or so he 
came back and brought with him six young In- 
dians, each carrying a bow and arrows, and a 
glistening little tomahawk. At his belt each 
carried a keen knife. When Teddy saw them 
coming he asked Jack if they were going to be 
killed. The Indians had no such intentions, 
however. They had merely come as a guard of 
honor, and a moment later the party started on 
the trip through the village. 

Everywhere the boys went they found only 
things in miniature. The Indians were small, 
the ponies they rode or drove were small, and 
the homes they lived in were so small that 
neither of the boys could crawl into them. In 
the center of the village were the tepees of the 
sub-chiefs, each painted a bright carmine, while 
the other tepees were drab, with yellow rings 
around them. There were openings for the 
smoke to come out, and from many of them 
curled up in the air rifts of vapor. The boys 
asked what made the smoke so red, and it was 
explained that nothing but red wood was used 
on the fires. 


34 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Not far from where the chiefs had their tepees 
was a park in which were all kinds of trees and 
flowering shrubs, and the walks were lined with 
purple flowers that resembled pansies. In the 
center of the park was an open space where the 
Princess said the war dances were held. Little 
birds flitted about in the trees and wee squirrels 
chased each other from branch to branch. At 
the foot of one sturdy little tree stood a fountain 
from which a stream of water flowed. Teddy 
said he was thirsty and when one of the Indians 
handed him a shell full of the fluid he found that 
he was drinking the most delicious lemonade he 
had ever tasted. The Indians did not call it 
lemonade. They gave it a queer name, and when 
asked how it was made they replied that its 
origin was one of the secrets of the age, and they 
dare not disclose it. After the boys had drank 
all they desired they were taken on through the 
park and to the zoological gardens, where they 
were told they could see at least one of every 
animal that lived under the earth. And such a 
wonderful sight as it was. There were ele- 
phants, leopards, lions, bears, camels, monkeys, 
and in fact so many different creatures that the 
boys could not count them. They were all con- 


CHIEF ROUND MOON'S DOMAIN 


35 


fined in a great cage that covered an immense 
space of ground, but there were no partitions in 
it. The animals romped and played together as 
if they had been kittens. The boys asked how it 
was that they did not quarrel, and were told 
that animals in Round Moon's domain never 
disagreed, but lived in perfect harmony. 

Jack asked if any one ever entered the cage, 
and for reply one of the Indians opened the gate 
and went in. He went up to an elephant and, 
stepping on the animal’s snout, was lifted up on 
his back. Then the elephant knelt down while 
the Indian got off. Approaching a fierce lioness, 
which was playing with her cub, the Indian held 
out his hand and the lioness put up her paw to 
shake with him. Then he went over to where a 
lot of monkeys were chattering, and, after he 
had snapped his fingers a time or two, a score of 
them ran up a tree and out on a limb, where they 
hung by their tails until told to stop. A giraffe 
was nibbling buds from the top of a tree when 
the Princess called him by name, and he came 
over to the side of the cage and put his nose 
down for her to rub. 

“Perhaps you think this is strange,” said the 
Princess, “but I assure you there is nothing out 


36 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

of the ordinary in it. You must remember that 
it has been millions of years since our world be- 
gan and our people were advancing while your 
world was only dreamed of.” 

“Would the animals tear me to pieces if I went 
into the cage?” asked Teddy. 

“No, they would not injure you in the least,” 
replied the Princess, “and if you want to go in 
you may.” 

But Teddy had not come to the strange coun- 
try to play with wild beasts, and he declined. 
Nor did Jack accept the invitation. 

After the boys had looked at the animals all 
they cared to the Princess reminded them it was 
already past dinner time and invited them to ac- 
company her, and those with her, to the bank of 
the Elkhorn, where dinner was awaiting them. 

When they arrived at the stream they found 
ten little Indian maidens, none much larger than 
a china doll, prepared to serve them with a feast 
of good things. Mats were spread on the grass, 
and while they were eating Ring-in-the-Toe told 
them of a tribe of Indians who lived on the op- 
posite side of the river. “They are bad Indians,” 
said the chief, “and we sometimes have to go 
over there and punish them. At one time they 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


37 


all lived over on this side, but the bad spirit in- 
fluenced them and they did things of which 
Round Moon disapproved and he sent them 
away. None of them ever dare come back on 
this side to live, but occasionally they will slip 
across in the night and try to make mischief. 

“The last time Round Moon had to punish 
them,” continued Ring-in-the-Toe, “was about 
seven moons ago, and I am sorry to say that we 
had to punish them very hard, and leave many 
of them dead on the battle field. The Great 
Spirit was with Round Moon, and not a single 
one of his warriors was injured. When we 
came back we held a war dance lasting several 
sleeps, in the open space you saw in the park.” 

“Is there any danger of them coming over 
while we are here?” asked Teddy. 

“Not in the least,” replied Ring-in-the-Toe. “It 
will perhaps be over a hundred years before they 
come again, and it may be longer, but when they 
do Round Moon will punish them as before.” 

“When Round Moon is dead, who will punish 
the bad Indians?” asked Jack. 

“Before he dies,” explained the chief, “Prin- 
cess Bright Eyes will marry. She is now old 
enough, for we celebrated her five hundredth 


38 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

birthday last moon. Her first baby boy will be 
our leader.” 

“But supposing she never marries?” inquired 
one of the boys. 

“No fear of that,” said the chief. “The Great 
Spirit has so willed it, and in all the millions of 
years that our people have lived there has never 
been any trouble of this kind.” 

By the time the meal was finished it was get- 
ting late in the afternoon and the Princess sug- 
gested that the party go back to the village and 
listen to the tom-tom concert, after which they 
would be served with lunch and could retire to 
rest On the following day, she added, they 
might see the Indians hunting buffalo out on 
the range. 

The concert proved to be a most interesting 
musical affair, over fifty Indian boys and girls 
beating tom-toms at the same time, yet so softly 
that the air was filled with melody. 

After the concert the boys were given some- 
thing to eat and provided with buffalo skins to 
sleep on, and for a second night visited dream- 
land with a guard of little Indians about them. 
But this time the red men held tomahawks in 
their hands instead of rattle boxes. 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


39 


V. 

When the boys awoke the little round sun was 
shining full in their faces, the birds were sing- 
ing, and there was a general stir of activity in 
the Indian village. They looked for their 
guards, but they had been withdrawn. 

Teddy raised up on one elbow and said: “I 
think we had better get up, or we will miss our 
breakfast,” and a little later both were bathing 
their faces at a fountain. While they were thus 
engaged, the Princess appeared and informed 
them that breakfast was waiting. 

Again they were served with queer tasting but 
palatable dishes. The meal over, it was an- 
nounced that Chief Ring-in-the-Toe and his 
hunters would accompany the boys and Princess 
Bright Eyes to the hunting grounds. 

Leaving the village, the party passed up along 
the bank of the Elkhorn until they were about 
two leagues beyond the park, where the first buf- 
faloes were sighted. “These are only a few 
stragglers,” said the Princess, “but we will find 
plenty farther along.” 

Another half league was passed when a num- 
ber of Indians, mounted on wiry little ponies, 


40 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

rode out of a clump of trees and, after saluting 
Chief Ring-in-the-Toe, said that a herd of buffalo 
was grazing over the brow of the next range. 

Each of the hunters was armed with bow? 
and arrows, and some carried glistening spears, 
which convinced the boys that they were to see 
all the fun they wanted before they got back. 

When the party was as close to the herd as 
it was thought advisable to go before the hunt 
opened, Chief Ring-in-the-Toe mounted a pony 
that had been led by one of the mounted Indians, 
and telling Princess Bright Eyes to take the 
boys up on a high hillock, so they could see down 
in the valley, he ordered the footmen to follow 
and then rode off at a gallop. 

The Princess and the boys had hardly reached 
the desired view-point when they heard shouts 
and yells from below, and looking down saw a 
sight that sent the blood rushing through their 
veins. 

The buffalo had been trapped, but none of 
them proposed to give up without a desperate 
struggle. The valley had high bluffs surround- 
ing it on all sides, there being but one egress 
aside from the river front. Time and again the 
herd charged thunderously toward the outlet, 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


41 


but each time they came in contact with the 
sharp spears and deadly sting of the arrows, 
which the Indians poured into them like rain. 
Occasionally one of the animals would go down, 
but the ranks would go on, unbroken, just the 
same. 

Round and round in the lowland the Indians 
and the buffalo circled — one side battling for 
life and the other for death. But it was royal 
sport, and very exciting. Once when an old bull 
made a lunge at the pony on which Chief Ring- 
in-the-Toe was mounted, and it appeared that 
both pony and Indian would be killed, Teddy 
covered his eyes with his hands and would not 
look again until told by the Princess that the 
bull had been slain with thrusts from a spear. 

One thing that had attracted the attention of 
the boys, and was a puzzle for some time, was 
the manner in which certain of the buffaloes 
were unmolested, no matter how close the hunt- 
ers came to them. Princess Bright Eyes ex- 
plained it by pointing out that following each 
of the animals thus left alone was a wee buffalo 
calf, which would die if deprived of its natural 
protector. 

This explanation pleased the boys very much, 


42 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

and they asked who gave the order that the little 
calves were to be spared. The Princess told them 
it was the wish of her father, Chief Bound Moon, 
and that if a hunter ever killed a calf, unless it 
was by pure accident, he would be forever ban- 
ished to the land where the bad Waumpums 
lived. 

While the Princess was still talking they 
heard a shout from down in the lowland and saw 
Chief Iting-in-the-Toe waving a flaming red ban- 
ner. “That means the hunt is over,” explained 
the Princess. “They have killed all the game we 
can take care of, and it would not be right to 
kill any more.” 

“It was an awfully jolly hunt,” said Jack, “but 
really I am glad that the end has come.” 

Teddy was straining his eyes in all directions 
trying to find the buffalo herd, but nothing could 
be seen of them. Finally he asked where they 
had gone. 

“Into the river,” replied the Princess. “Don’t 
you see their heads bobbing up and down in the 
water?” 

The boys looked in the direction indicated and 
could make out hundreds of shaggy brown and 
black heads on the surface, and with them were 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


43 


scores of yet smaller objects, which the Princess 
said were the buffalo calves. 

“But why didn’t they jump into the water 
when they were being hunted so hard?” asked 
one of the boys. 

“That’s something that we have never been 
able to explain,” replied the Princess, “but it has 
always been the same. Just as soon as a hunt is 
over, if there is any water nearby, the buffalo 
will jump in and swim to the other side.” 

“But will they ever come back?” 

“Oh, yes,” replied the Princess. “They would 
be driven back, even if they didn’t want to come. 
The bad Waumpums on the other side would kill 
them all if they stayed over there.” 

As soon as the hunt was over, the Indians 
who had come on foot began to dress the ani- 
mals, and those on the ponies, with Chief Ring- 
in-the-Toe at their head, rode up to where Prin- 
cess Bright Eyes and the boys were, and asked 
them if they were ready to go into the tiger 
country. 

“Gee, we are not going where there are tigers, 
are we?” exclaimed Teddy. 

“Not unless you care to,” replied the Princess. 
“However, allow me to say that you will not be 


44 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

injured, for Chief Ring-in-the-Toe is the greatest 
tiger hunter in the kingdom, and he will pro- 
tect us.” 

“We’ll go,” said the boys. 

Just before they started, Chief Ring-in- the- 
Toe blew a blast on a horn whistle and an In- 
dian boy appeared leading three ponies, one each 
for Princess Bright Eyes, Teddy and Jack. 

After leaving the buffalo grounds the party 
headed into a deep forest, a portion of which 
they had passed on the way out. Before they 
had gone far one of the boys turned and saw at 
least a hundred Indian women, some riding in 
two-wheeled carts, some on ponies, and still oth- 
ers on foot, coming up the hill, while about them 
ran dozens of yelping dogs, about the size of 
Teddy’s pet kitten. 

“Where are those people going?” asked Jack. 

“They are the women of our village,” replied 
Chief Ring-in-the-Toe. “They have come out to 
help dress the dead buffalo. You will observe 
that some of them have brought along tents, 
which you can see strapped to the long poles that 
the ponies in the rear are drawing. They will 
camp out here until the buffalo meat has been 
sun-cured, then they will pack it in bundles and 
haul it back to the village.” 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 45 

“But why don’t the men do the work?” asked 
Teddy. 

The chief didn’t know what to reply to this 
question, and the Princess had to come to his 
rescue by saying : “It’s the custom of our people, 
that’s all.” 

“Then that’s one custom of yours I don’t like,” 
replied Teddy, and the Princess smiled so sweetly 
that the little fellow blushed like a tea rose. 

Chief Ring-in-the-Toe rode first, and next to 
him came one of his trusted hunters. Neither 
one carried anything but a sharp spear and a 
two-edged knife, the blade of which zigzagged 
like a wave of water. Then came several In- 
dians armed with bows and arrows, and some 
with spears. The Princess and the boys were be- 
hind. Not a word was spoken, and the boys were 
told to keep perfectly quiet if they wanted to see 
a tiger killed. 

After they had gotten well within the forest 
the trees were found to be so close together, and 
the underbrush so dense, that the Indians had to 
dismount, and the boys did likewise. Leaving 
the ponies with a couple of Indians the party 
plunged deeper and deeper into the forest. They 
had not gone very far when the old chief held up 


4 


46 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

his hand to command silence and a moment later 
tilted his spear forward, as if ready to make a 
thrust. “ What’s the matter ?” asked Jack in a 
whisper. “He smells a tiger,” replied the Prin- 
cess. 

Hardly had the words left her mouth when 
a bright red object shot through the air and 
came near landing right on top of the chief. The 
chief saw the animal coming and jumped back, 
and before the tiger could turn for another 
spring the spear had pierced his heart. 

The old chief was proud of his reputation as 
a tiger hunter, and called the boys to come and 
see what he had done. After they had examined 
the animal the chief told two of the men to help 
him and he would hang the body up in a tree, so 
they could find it on the way back, and remove 
the skin. 

“Why do you want so many to help?” asked 
Jack. 

“Because he is so heavy,” replied the chief. 
“He is a very large one, and will weigh more 
than two men can lift.” 

Before the Indians could comply with the re- 
quest of their chief Teddy stooped down and, 
picking the animal up, he tossed the body into 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^S DOMAIN 


47 


the tree fork as easily as if it had been made of 
hay instead of flesh and blood. 

“You’re a wonderful boy,” was all the chief 
said. 

“Nothing wonderful about that,” replied 
Teddy. “He doesn’t weigh over fifteen pounds, 
and isn’t much larger than a common house 
cat in the country I came from.” 

The next tiger was found stretched out on the 
limb of a tree. Teddy was the first to see it, al- 
though Chief Ring-in-the-Toe had been sniffing 
the air for some time. All of a sudden Teddy 
took a notion that he would like to kill a tiger, 
and asked the chief if he could try. “Certainly,” 
replied the chief, and he handed the boy his long 
spear. 

Teddy walked forward until he was almost 
directly under the tiger, when he picked up a 
stick and threw it at the gleaming eyes, and in 
a moment the tiger had sprung at him. 

The boy saw the animal coming, and braced 
himself, and when the little beast struck the 
ground the spear had passed clear through his 
body. 

The chief said he had never done half so well 
in his life, and that was saying a great deal, for 


48 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

lie was the best hunter in Chief Round Moon’s 
world. 

Bright Eves was even more profuse in her 
praises, and, as she had taken a liking to Teddy, 
she told him that if he would come back when 
she had celebrated her six hundredth birthday 
she would become his wife. 

Jack wasn’t exactly jealous of Teddy, but 
somehow he wished it had been he instead of his 
little brother who had achieved such a victory. 

In a little while one of the hunters with the 
party killed another tiger and the hunt was 
over. 

It was now getting late in the day and they 
were all tired and hungry, so the return trip 
was begun. As they rode along the old chief 
told many interesting tales of tiger hunting, and 
explained why the tigers in this wonderful land 
are red in color. He said it was because they 
eat nothing but red clay after they are weaned, 
but when they are first born they are almost 
white. As soon as they begin to eat the clay 
their color gradually changes, and in a few weeks 
they are the color of the food they live upon. 

When the village was reached the boys found 
that a great barbecue had been arranged in their 


CHIEF ROUND MOON’S DOMAIN 


49 


honor, and over a dozen buffalo brought from 
the hunting grounds and roasted whole. 

Long rows of reed mats had been placed under 
the trees in the park and in a short time the hunt 
was being celebrated. Nor was roast buffalo 
meat the whole bill of fare. By the orders of the 
Princess many things had been provided, which 
were kept for just such occasions, and the boys 
thought they had never tasted anything half so 
good. 

After the banquet was over, another tom-tom 
concert was given, and then it was time to go to 
bed. 

For a second time in the village the two little 
Omaha boys slept out in the open, on great piles 
of furs, while about them stood, as a guard of 
honor, ten little Indian men. 

VI. 

This was to be the last day of the boys’ visit 
in the land of the Waumpums, and the prettiest 
things to see had been reserved for the occasion. 
They were to make a trip to Bead Land, where 
the pretty colored beads grow with which the 
Indians decorate their moccasins. 

Long before the sun had begun to peep over 


50 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

the range, Jack and Teddy were up and strolling 
through the village. As they passed the tepees 
they saw the little Indian women cooking the 
morning meal. A little farther on they met a 
group of Indian boys who had been up to the 
Elkhorn to bathe. Then the boys turned back to 
the tepee of Chief Ring-in-the-Toe and found 
their breakfast ready. 

In honor of their last meal in the village, the 
Princess dined with them, and as they were din- 
ing she told them of the beautiful country they 
were to see during the day. 

There were no huntsmen or warriors with the 
boys when they started. No one, in fact, but 
Princess Bright Eyes and Yellow Smoke, whose 
Indian name is “Sha-da-na-zhi,” which means 
yellow smoke. The Princess explained that Yel- 
low Smoke was the keeper of the land of beads 
and that no one was allowed to go there but he, 
or some of the royal family. 

Bead Land was about a league and a half from 
the village, but there were so many things of 
interest to see along the way that the trip was 
at an end before the boys realized it. 

As they got closer to the entrance of Bead 
Land they saw that the shade of the birds’ wings 


CHIEF ROUND MOON'S DOMAIN 


51 


became brighter. Down in the valley they had 
been gray, brown and black, but here the feath- 
ers were the color of the rainbow. One of the 
boys asked what caused the change and was told 
to wait and he would see. 

Passing through a deep crevice, the walls of 
which seemed to tower hundreds of feet above, 
a waterfall was seen. The Princess took the lead, 
and, passing through the misty spray, she called 
to the others to follow. Teddy answered back 
that he would be drenched if he did. “No you 
will not,” replied Yellow Smoke. “This spray 
does not wet anything but the soil.” 

Thus assured the boys passed under the spray 
and came out dry on a little plateau, where 
Princess Bright Eyes was waiting. 

“We are about to enter Bead Land,” said the 
Princess, “and all I ask is that you do not touch 
anything without first asking permission from 
Yellow Smoke, as he would be banished to the 
land of the bad Waumpums if harm came to a 
single thing here.” 

The boys promised to be very careful and the 
Princess led the way up a steep hill, where a fine 
view could be had of the surrounding country, 
and pointed out Bead Land. 


52 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

In front of them for leagues and leagues was 
a sight of dazzling beauty — so dazzling that the 
boys had to shade their eyes until they became 
used to the change from the sere and brown to 
the gorgeous colors. In places there were trees, 
and in other places small shrubs, and hanging 
down from them were long strands of a fine 
fibrous texture. On these strands and in the 
meshes were untold numbers of the prettiest 
beads that have ever been seen any place out of 
Bead Land. 

On some of the fibers were red beads; on oth- 
ers green ; then there were blue, crystal, azure — 
the tint of the ruby and sapphire, in very fact 
every conceivable color, and so perfectly did they 
blend that they made Teddy think of the para^ 
dise his mother had told him of. 

“Now,” said the Princess, “we will follow 
Yellow Smoke.” 

The keeper of Bead Land knew where to go to 
get the best view, and as they passed on he told 
much he knew of the curious sights. “This part 
of Chief Round Moon’s domain,” said Yellow 
Smoke, “has been growing and developing for 
ages and ages. When the Great Spirit created 
our country he made Bead Land and set out 


CHIEF ROUND MOON'S DOMAIN 53 

those trees which you see, bearing beads, in- 
stead of fruit. The beads, as you will pres- 
ently observe, for we are going to gather 
some of them, are not glass, as the beads in 
your world are. They are wonderful crystal- 
lizations, made of the same unfathomed material 
as the crystals and stalactites in Wind Cave. 
The trees all have fibers on them, which grow 
as rapidly as the leaves on an ordinary tree 
about our village. Each tree has a different col- 
ored sap or juice, and this sap is what gives 
color to the beads. Where the sap is red the 
beads are red. If it is blue the beads are blue. 

“The beads form slowly,” continued Yellow 
Smoke. “It takes hundreds of years for one of 
them to reach its natural size. That is one rea- 
son why Chief Round Moon is so careful that 
nothing is touched without permission of his 
keeper.” 

“But how are the beads made?” asked Jack. 

“I was going to tell you,” replied the keeper. 
“You remember the spray you came through, and 
that it did not wet you? Well, that spray is 
damp, but it is so fine that you could not feel it. 
After the spray goes over the falls it strikes the 
earth and is absorbed. This part of the coun- 


54 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

try lies in a great basin, so tight at the bottom 
that not a drop of moisture can get out. Once in 
the earth the moisture works its way, by nat- 
ural means, back up through the valley in which 
the trees are located, and the roots of the trees, 
coming in contact with it, are freshened and 
caused to grow. But all of the dampness does 
not go into the roots. A certain part of it comes 
out of the ground and alights on the meshes of 
the fibers, and the bead formation around the 
fibers begins. The rest of the dampness falls at 
night time into the rivulet that fed the falls we 
saw, and when morning comes there is always a 
spray. By seven tongs (which is nine o’clock) 
the spray-fall ceases. That, in brief, is the man- 
ner in which the beads are grown.” 

While the explanation had been somewhat 
lengthy, it was interesting, and the boys were 
more anxious than ever to go through the strange 
land. 

The first beads they came to were purple ones, 
and oh, how pretty — more purple than any 
fluer-de-lis ever picked. When the Princess 
stopped beneath the tree on which they grew the 
reflection turned her complexion into the shade 
of the beads. 


CHIEF ROUND MOON’S DOMAIN 


55 


Teddy clapped his hands and shouted for joy, 
while Jack said that if he had a tree like that at 
home he would never leave it, day or night. 

“These beads are not nearly so pretty as some 
you will see,” explained Yellow Smoke, “as they 
are too far from the center of the forest.” 

“But don’t they brighten quicker in the sun 
than in the shade?” asked one of the boys. 

“You must remember that it is the spray that 
makes the colors,” replied the Princess. 

A little farther on they came to trees and 
shrubs laden with bright red beads, and near by 
were trees bearing yellow and green beads, but 
they were more perfect than those first seen. 
Trailing down from other trees were pink beads, 
white beads, black beads, and beads of all shades 
and sizes. 

The boys had been very careful not to touch a 
single fiber, although the temptation was great. 
This pleased the old keeper and he told them 
that they would now go into the part of the for- 
est where they could pick all the beads they 
wanted. 

Passing through a clump of trees they entered 
a little valley, which was screened from view by 
the forest, and before them was another wonder- 


56 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

ful sight. The trees here seemed to be older. 
Yellow Smoke said this was the first part of Bead 
Land that the Great Spirit planted, and although 
it had been growing so long it still was capable 
of supplying all the beads that the Indians would 
need for at least ten thousand years to come. 

There were graveled paths in this part of Bead 
Land, and as the party wound in and out among 
the trees the boys were told to gather such beads 
as suited their fancy. 

Teddy wore a blouse waist and he decided to 
fill the loose part with beads and take them 
home. J ack was more modest and all he wanted 
were a few of each kind as keepsakes. 

Teddy had already nearly filled his blouse 
with choice selections when he remembered that 
there were other colors — he had gathered none 
but carmine ones, so he had to pour out nearly 
all of them on the ground. “Pm sorry I wasted 
so many,” the little fellow said, apologetically. 
“That makes no difference,” replied Yellow 
Smoke, “for I can use them, and it will save me 
picking them myself.” 

From tree to tree the boys went, at each gath- 
ering a few, until they had all they could carry. 

It was now past the high sun hour and the 


CHIEF ROUND MOON^ DOMAIN 57 

Princess opened a wicker basket and they sat 
down to lunch under the shade of a big bead tree 
— big to the Princess and Yellow Smoke, yet the 
topmost branches were not much higher than 
either of the boys could reach. 

While they were eating the boys talked of 
nothing but pretty beads. They had for the time 
forgotten all about the wonderful castle, where 
old Chief Round Moon lived ; the queer village of 
his people, the buffalo hunt, and tiger skin that 
Teddy had longed to bring with him. And why 
shouldn’t they talk of beads? About them, on all 
sides, as far as they could see, were nothing but 
beads, and their pockets were full of beads. 

A bird, much like the brown thrush, flew by, 
but its wings were tipped with red, and his 
breast was yellow. The rest of his feathers were 
blue. Jack again asked why all the birds were 
colored in Bead Land, and Yellow Smoke told 
him that it was because they came each morning 
to bathe in the spray that went over the falls. 

After lunch the Princess took the boys for a 
ramble through the little mountains and up the 
canyons that surrounded Bead Land. From one 
high point they could see a snow-capped range, 
far off to the north, which they were told was 


58 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

peopled by a tribe of Indians known as Snow- 
men, but who never came down into the Waum- 
pum’s country for fear they would smother. 

After enjoying the scenery, and praising ev- 
erything they saw, the boys told the Princess 
that it was time for them to start home. Then 
Jack happened to think that he had no knowl- 
edge of where Teddy and he were, or how to get 
back to the mouth of Wind Cave, and he asked 
for directions. 

“You are much nearer the home of your 
grandma than you think,” replied Princess 
Bright Eyes. “It is not so very far. Yellow 
Smoke will go with you part of the way.” 

Now that the time had come for the boys to 
bid good-bye to the Princess they were sorry to 
go, but they knew their visit was at an end and 
there was nothing else to do. 

The parting was a pathetic one. The boys 
sent a message of love to Chief Bound Moon, 
Bing-in-the-Toe, and the others who had helped 
make their visit pleasant, and started up the 
path, with Yellow Smoke in the lead. As they 
were about to pass out of sight Teddy turned and 
saw the Princess brush a tear from her eyes. 
The boy’s heart was touched, and going back to 


CHIEF ROUND MOON’S DOMAIN 


59 


her he said: “Here, Princess Bright Eyes, is 
something to remember me by.” Then he hur- 
ried after his companions. 

When the Princess opened her hand to see 
what Teddy had left she found an old one-bladed 
Barlow knife. 

After traveling an hour or so through deep 
canyons Yellow Smoke led the way into a dark 
crevice. From a nook in the rocks he took a 
torch and lighted it and then they passed 
through many other crevices, jumped narrow 
streams, and at last came to where it began to 
grow light. Yellow Smoke stopped and said : “I 
can go no farther. None of my people have ever 
been to the end of this cave. If one of us went 
out there, so we could see your world, we would 
never return. 

“It is near the close of your day,” continued 
Yellow Smoke, “and you will have to hurry 
along. You will come out in the open half way 
up Battle mountain.” 

A hasty good-by was said, and a moment later 
the boys were alone. 

They easily found their way to the mouth of 
the cave, and looking down the valley they saw 
their grandma’s home. 


60 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Pell mell they ran down the mountain side, 
and were soon clasped in the arms of their 
mother, who had come out to the Springs when 
she heard her boys were lost in Wind Cave. 

“Where on earth have you boys been?” ex- 
claimed their grandma, as she shared the hugs 
and kisses of her pets. 

“Been to the most wonderful land in the 
world,” replied Teddy, “and if you don’t be- 
lieve it just look here,” and he shoved a hand 
into his pocket, but hurriedly drew it back again 
— empty. 

The first glint of sunshine from the outer 
world had dissolved the beads of mist into vapor. 


She 'Ccwbcifs Bream 

IMMY FADDEN AND TOM DUGAN 
were inseparable. For years they had 
ridden the range together, from Piney 
Buttes to Sundance; from the valley 
of the Wounded Knee to Powder 
River. They had roped on the Lara- 
mie plains and helped brand down on 
the Cheyenne. Finally they had come 
to be known as the “Cowboy Twins.” 

To know Jimmy Fadden was to know Tom Du- 
gan. Where one went the other went also. On 
the round-up they kept always together, and if 
one was in trouble, or ill, the other was there to 
assist him. No two brothers ever loved each 
other better than they, and when Colonel Com- 
stock, of the Spade Ranch, up on the Clearwater, 
hired Jimmy Fadden he of necessity engaged 
Tom Dugan. 

From the Spade Ranch to Gordon the trail is 
no short one, reaching over rolling plains peo- 
pled with prairie dogs and past beds of blossom- 
ing cacti. Along it the range of the naked eye 



5 


62 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

is limited only by the horizon, and at certain 
seasons of the year there will sometimes loom np, 
of a sudden, apparently but a short distance 
away, a wonderful sight — a city, not of the 
plains, but the presentment of many thousand 
miles away, perhaps across the sea. For the 
country between the Spade Ranch and Gordon, 
as all westerners know, is made more interesting, 
if possible, by the mirage. 

It often happens that a cowboy crossing the 
sandy stretch will see, just over the next rise, not 
only a city, but lakes of blue water fringed with 
trees — sometimes palms, and again willows, or 
perhaps it may be the tall cocoanut. Teams and 
animals may be seen — but it is only a mirage. It 
is told of one cowboy who had lost his dog, that 
he saw reflected in a mirage one day a team 
driven by a man, and running beside the wagon 
was a dog. “ ’Pon my word,” said the cowboy to 
himself, “that’s my dog,” and he drew out his 
whistle and blew a long blast, expecting to see 
his pet come scampering toward him. But the 
dog did not come, and all at once it dawned upon 
him that perhaps the animal he had called was 
many hundred miles away. 

It was through this country of mirages that 


THE COWBOY'S DllEAM 


G3 


Jimmy Fadden and Tom Dugan rode from the 
Spade It an eh to Gordon. There was to be a 
ranch ball and a few days’ recreation in the 
town, and that called the cowboys from Spade 
Ranch, as it did from many other ranches up 
and down the divide. 

At last the festivities were over, and Jimmy 
Fadden was ready to return home, but his friend 
wished to stay another day — whether because of 
the sjjarkle in a pair of black eyes, or a desire to 
postpone the long ride, is not known. Either 
might have been the cause, for pretty eyes are 
the same the world over, and the maidens of the 
plains have the brightest in the world. 

Finally it was decided that the two old friends 
should part, for a day at least — for the first time 
in years — and Jimmy Fadden saddled his bron- 
cho, pulled on his leather leggings and rode 
away. “I’ll be in to-morrow, or the next day,” 
called Tom Dugan, as Jimmy turned a corner 
and was soon lost to sight in the cloud of sand 
dust that went swirling up behind him. 

And Tom Dugan did not start to follow him 
the next day, nor the next. It was three days 
later when he bade his acquaintances farewell 
and swung into the saddle. 


64 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

There were two trails back to the Spade 
Ranch; one up the valley past the sand dunes 
and buttes, — the other out in the open. The 
cowboy preferred the former. He loved to build 
castles in the air as he rode along and populate 
them with all imaginable sorts of people. He 
knew that Jimmy Fadden had taken the upper 
trail — it came to him all of a sudden — and then 
he remembered a dream he had during his last 
night in Gordon — a dream that sent a cold shud- 
der up his spine and caused him to jerk the bridle 
reins so hard that his pony was thrown back on 
his haunches. The pretty sand dunes were for- 
gotten and the bigger buttes left in their glory — 
Tom Dugan was living over again the dream of 
the night. 

As the pony bounded across the sandy stretch, 
and the cool air from the mountains, far to the 
northwest, filled his nostrils, the lone rider had 
time to gather the threads of the dream as from 
the meshes of a tangled web. “I can see it all 
now,” he said, as if talking to his pony. “Just as 
plain as life, I saw Jimmy Fadden lying out 
there on the open, unable to get up. Feeding 
near him was his horse, — a skittish young rascal. 
I saw Jimmy crawl out where his pony was and 


THE COWBOY^S DREAM 


G5 


catch the rope and then grasp the rein, and at 
last attempt to climb up in the saddle. I saw 
him try and try again and then fall back. It 
might all have been true and Jimmy may be 
dead,” and down came the quirt on the broncho’s 
flanks, and the jangling spurs were sunk deeper 
into his side. 

Swiftly the man and beast crossed the sand, — 
not swift enough for Tom Dugan. It seemed as 
if he was going at a snail’s pace. His faithful 
pony had always been swift footed before. What 
could be the matter now? 

Off to the right of the trail was a herd of 
cattle grazing. Near them were two cowboys 
who knew Tom Dugan, and as he drew near they 
called for him to stop and rest. And as they 
were shouting he sped on past; nothing but an 
accident could stop the cowboy from the Spade 
Ranch. 

Mile after mile of that seemingly endless plain 
was passed. Up one rise and down, over an- 
other, and still the plain was untenanted. 

At noon the cowboy reined in his pony, and 
getting down held the rope while the hungry 
beast cropped a few mouthfuls of the bunch 
grass. But time was precious, and the journey 
was soon resumed. 


66 FAIRY TALES UF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Five miles, ten, and then twelve were covered, 
when afar in the distance Dugan saw a dark spot. 
How his heart leaped. He was too far away to 
see what the object was, but he felt it was Jimmy 
Fadden’s horse. Another mile was passed, and 
from a knoll the rider recognized unmistakably 
his comrade’s mount browsing on the sage brush. 

No time to lose now. No thought of the tired 
horse he rode. Jimmy was in danger — perhaps 
he was dead, and like a whirlwind, and riding 
as only the cowboys of the western range can 
ride, Tom Dugan pressed forward. 

As he swept along he could see the rope drag- 
ging out behind, the saddle in place and the 
reins dangling, but no sign of Jimmy Fadden. 
Riding up to the horse, he carefully examined 
the empty saddle for evidence of foul play. But 
the saddle told him none. 

Taking his friend’s broncho with him, Dugan 
started westward, keeping a sharp eye in all 
directions. Half a mile farther on a pack of 
great gray wolves drifted across the track and 
scampered away, growling and snarling as they 
went. Then to the right a sneaking coyote 
jumped and ran to the rear of the horseman. “I 
don’t like the looks of them critters,” said Du- 


THE COWBOY’S DREAM 


67 


gan to himself. “Guess I’ll just hobble the 
ponies and see what I can find on foot. Them 
wolves aren’t here for nothing, that’s sure.” 

Dugan scoured the plain in all directions, but 
no trace of Jimmy Fadden he found. No bunch 
of sage nor towering cluster of cactus escaped 
a careful scrutiny. Even the sand was kicked 
up — for wolves have been known to hide their 
prey. Dugan was in despair. 

A moment later there was borne to him a long, 
low whistle, from what direction the eager cow- 
boy could not tell. Again came the whistle, and 
Dugan’s temples throbbed and the blood went 
coursing through his veins. He knew the sound 
— it was from Jimmy Fadden, as they had 
learned to call each other up on the Chugwater 
when they were hunting cattle rustlers. 

Leaving the ponies behind, Dugan hurried up 
the trail, and five hundred yards from where he 
had made his search for Jimmy’s bones, Jimmy 
was found on the sand, with a broken leg. His 
horse had stumbled and thrown him. 

The scene that took place between the two 
men is known best to those who live on the 
range. 

“How long have you been here, old fellow?” 
at last asked Dugan. 


68 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“For two days and two nights,” replied Jim- 
my, “and I guess if you had not come the wolves 
would have finished me to-night. I had to 
empty my revolver at them last night, but I kept 
one shot.” 

“What for?” asked Dugan; and both men 
looked at each other. 

“You know,” was all that Jimmy Fadden said, 
and Dugan understood. 


iock-a-SiiU Mhw Wild -Cat 

OOK-A-BILL HOLLOW WAS ONE 
of the most dreaded places in the 
whole West in the days when Ne- 
braska was young. Occasionally ru- 
mors of Indian depredations and 
evidences of the ravages of prairie 
fires would distract attention from it, 
yet as soon as these ceased to be 
talked about, Look-a-Bill Hollow 
would come to the surface and furnish theme 
after theme for old and young. It did not owe its 
notoriety to either ghosts or hobgoblins, but to a 
big wild cat, called by the settlers “Tom.” 

Tom was there when the first white man moved 
into a dug-out up on Cedar Creek, and refused 
to be friends from the start. The settler’s hen- 
roosts would be robbed one night, and perhaps 
the next a lamb would be carried away. The 
tracks left in the soft earth showed that Tom 
did it. Then other settlers came and 
“squatted” along Turkey Creek, and down on 
Mill Creek, and Tom soon became the busiest 
wild cat east of the Rocky Mountains. 



TO FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

One fall a Missourian moved into the locality 
and brought with him six or seven Missouri 
hounds. His premises were not molested, for 
the wild cat feared the hounds, and this led to 
the organization of a wild cat party for the pur- 
pose of hunting down and killing old Tom. 

The wily old cat, fierce as he was, had many 
friends among the birds that lived in the trees of 
Look-a-Bill Hollow. When one of them, a Brown 
Thrush, heard the Missourian and his friends ar- 
ranging for the hunt, he flew to the tall tree in 
which Tom lived and told him all about it. 
“Thank you,” said Tom. “You certainly are my 
friend, and I’ll never harm a living wild thing 
that has feathers on it.” 

The hunt began at sunrise, the dogs running 
in and out among the trees and rocks, but it was 
some time before they got the scent. Then they 
set off at a mad run, yelping so loud that they 
could have been heard for miles. “Them dogs 
are all right,” explained the owner. “I know, 
because I raised ’em.” 

Louder and louder the hounds bayed, and sud- 
denly there came the sounds of a conflict — a 
mixture of yelps, growls and the shrill cry of the 
wild cat. “Let’s hurry,” said the Missourian, 


LOOK-A-BILL HOLLOW WILD CAT 


71 


and he took the lead, trailing his long squirrel 
rifle to keep the hammer from coming in con- 
tact with the shrubs they were passing through. 
The party left the brush, crossed a patch of 
trees, and then a clearing, at the far end of 
which they found a dead hound. Tom had left 
his mark and gone. The rest of the dogs were 
hiding, all in a bunch, in the underbrush. 

“ ’Pears to me thet Tom may be in a holler 
tree,” advised one settler. “He kin stey thare 
fer all I keer,” replied the Missourian. “He’s 
killed my best coon dog, and thet’s more’n all 
ther lambs and chickens in the valley’s worth.” 

The hounds and their master took the back 
track, but three of the settlers followed the 
trail. Half a mile up the hollow they found 
where Tom had gone up a big tree. “Better 
watch out, boys,” said the leader, “or that cat 
will be down among us before we know it.” 
Hardly had the words left his lips when Tom 
struck the ground near where the men were 
standing, and before a shot could be fired had 
run into the brush and was gone. Then the hunt 
was abandoned. 

That night another lamb was carried off, and 
the next night a pair of fat pullets were added 


72 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

to the list. Tom was still abroad and was feared 
more than ever. Already he had killed and car- 
ried off dozens of chickens and turkeys and a 
score of lambs, and, on three or four occasions, 
had showed fight to settlers who had met him in 
Look-a-Bill Hollow. 

It was a long while before another hunt for 
Tom was arranged. This time the whole settle- 
ment turned out, and for two days the men 
hunted in and out of the dreaded hollow, but 
only the tracks of Tom could be found. He had 
gone, but his tracks were so fresh that they mis- 
led the hunters and made them believe that he 
was still in the locality. 

As soon as the men left, Brown Thrush flew off 
to the Platte river and found Tom, fast asleep 
in a hollow elm tree, and told him that it was 
safe to come back to Look-a-Bill Hollow. “I’ll 
get even with them for chasing me about,” said 
Tom to Brown Thrush. “I’ll give somebody a 
good scare, and then perhaps they’ll leave me 
alone.” 

Nothing in the settlement w T as disturbed for 
several nights and the impression began to grow 
that the last hunt had frightened Tom out of 
the neighborhood. Tom was there, however, 


LOOK-A-BILL HOLLOW WILD CAT 


73 


watching his chance to strike. It came sooner 
than he expected and was just what he wanted. 

While creeping along among the rocks and gul- 
lies that fringe Cedar Creek one afternoon, Tom 
came suddenly upon three little children, a boy 
of five, a girl of seven and a wee little fellow of 
two years old. They were gathering flowers and 
having as happy a time as imaginable, when, like 
a streak of lightning, Tom shot through the air 
and catching the baby boy by the dress ran away 
with him and w^as soon out of sight. The tw r o 
children, half crazed with fright and grief, went 
back and told their awful story to their parents. 

“It’s Tom of Look-a-Bill Hollow,” cried the 
mother in despair. “I’ll never see Lee again.” 
The father, a stern old Scotchman, said that per- 
haps the baby had been dropped as the wild cat 
ran away, and taking his rifle he started in pur- 
suit. He found the trail and followed it until it 
entered the heavy timber, where it appeared to 
have vanished in the air. From tree to tree the 
father went, and, as he eagerly peered up among 
the branches and probed into the hollow trunks, 
his heart grew heavier. Finally night came on 
and the search was given up. As the old Scotch- 
man turned to go back, he heard Tom scream, 
far up the canyon. 


74 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

The following day there were over fifty men 
and scores of dogs scouting through the trees 
where Tom lived. Once a man thought he 
caught sight of the wild cat in the branches, but 
Tom was not there, and the hunt went on. 

Another day and still another the settlers 
hunted for traces of either the baby or Tom, and 
then gave up the chase. 

One morning, nearly a fortnight after Tom 
had carried off the baby, the little brother and 
sister were out again picking flowers. The apron 
of the lassie was nearly full of Sweet Williams, 
wild roses and pretty leaves, and they were about 
ready to go back to their home when Brown 
Thrush flew down beside them and said: “Good 
morning, little folks. I’m Brown Thrush, and 
live up in Look-a-Bill Hollow.” 

“Aint you awful ’f’aid of dat bad wild cat 
what took baby Lee away?” asked the little boy. 

“Not in the least,” replied Brown Thrush. 
“In fact, Tom and I are great friends, and it is 
about him that I came to see you children.” 

“What do you want?” inquired the lassie. 

“Of course you children never expect to see 
your baby brother again, do you?” inquired the 
bird. 


LOOK-A-BILL HOLLOW WILD CAT 


75 


The children replied sorrowfully that they had 
given up hope and that their baby brother would 
never come back. 

“I knew you felt that way,” continued Brown 
Thrush, “but you are mistaken. I have good 
news for you. The baby is sound and well and 
has not been injured. Tom carried him away be- 
cause the settlers kept hunting him so long, but 
he has fed him on things he has stolen from the 
settlement in the night. All that Tom wants is 
to be let alone. Now you children keep perfectly 
quiet and don’t make any noise, and Tom will be 
here in a moment after I flap my wings, and he 
will bring your baby brother with him.” 

“But he may take me, too,” said the little boy. 

“No he won’t,” replied the bird. “He has had 
trouble enough with the baby, and if he carried 
you off he would have a worse time. All I want 
you to do is to tell the settlers not to hunt Tom 
any more.” 

“We’ll do it,” said the little girl, and a mo- 
ment later Brown Thrush hopped up on a rose 
bush and flapped his wings, and the children 
caught sight of Tom as he bounded along. Al- 
most before they knew it they were clasping their 
baby brother in their arms and crying as loud as 


76 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

they could. In fact, they screamed so loud that 
the old Scotchman heard them and ran to their 
assistance. It took but a moment for the little 
girl to explain what Brown Thrush had said and 
what Tom had done. 

For years afterward Tom lived in Look-a-Bill 
Hollow, but the settlers never hunted him, nor 
did he ever steal any more of their chickens and 
lambs. 


Sandstorm on the Plains 

ONCHO AND DAVE WERE TWO 
cow ponies, and side by side they had 
traveled hundreds of miles. Their 
masters, like the two cowboys of the 
Spade Ranch, rode the same range, 
and that is how Poncho and Dave be- 
came such fast friends. If one of the 
cow ponies found a good grazing 
patch he would whinny to the other 
and together they would take their lunch. If any 
other cow pony attempted to come near, however, 
Poncho and Dave would join forces and drive him 
away. 

The first time I saw Poncho and Dave was 
up near Casper, where they were cropping grass, 
where their masters had left them. I had some 
difficulty in approaching the ponies, but finally 
succeded and we were soon thereafter on good 
terms. “I have heard of you ponies a great many 
times,” I said, “and assure you I am very glad 
to meet you.” Then I added, “I want Poncho to 
tell me about the sand storm he passed through 
down on the Laramie Plains.” 

6 



78 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“I can’t tell a story,” replied Poncho. “I never 
could. Let Dave tell you about it.” “But Dave 
wasn’t there, was he?” I inquired. “No, he 
wasn’t there,” replied the pony, “but he knows 
all about it.” “Not as much as a pony that was 
actually there,” I replied. This appeared to 
touch the vanity of Poncho, and bidding me be 
seated on a prairie dog mound he told this 
story : 

“It was late in September when Bill and I 
left the Jackson-Hole country and started south- 
east, intending to stop several times between 
our starting point and Cheyenne. Bill, you 
know,” by way of explanation, “was my rider, 
and one of the bravest and best cowboys that 
ever threw his leg over a broncho’s back. 
There he is over there tossing his sombrero up 
for the boys to shoot at,” continued Poncho, as 
he pointed with one foreleg towards a bunch of 
cowboys off to the right. 

“As I was saying,” resumed Poncho, “it was 
late in the month of September. Bill and I had 
been up in the Jackson-Hole country for some 
weeks trying to locate lost cattle, but we didn’t 
find them, and as Bill was anxious to get back 
to the Single Cross Ranch he decided to make a 


SAND STORM ON THE PLAINS 


T9 


forced march, and, to save time, cut across the 
country. Just as we were leaving the shack 
where we stayed all night the rancher came out, 
and after carefully scanning the sky in all direc- 
tions, said: ‘Pard, if I were you, I’d not start 
to-day. Better wait till to-morrow, for there’s 
liable to be a sand storm.’ ‘Oh, I guess not,’ re- 
plied Bill, and tightening the reins he gave me 
a slap on the hip and away we went. 

“At noon we stopped at a ranch and got our 
dinner and a good drink of water, the last either 
of us had for nearly three days. After dinner 
Bill put on the saddle and we again headed for 
the southeast. Along about three o’clock I 
looked off in the east and saw a little black cloud 
coming up. At first it was no larger than your 
hat, but it grew and grew and in less than no 
time was as large as a water tank on the ‘Over- 
land.’ Bill saw it, too, but he said nothing until 
I spoke and said: ‘Bill, there comes that sand 
storm.’ ‘Looks like it,’ replied Bill, and a mo- 
ment later the air was filled with shifting sand. 
To face the tornado was impossible, and the only 
thing left to do was to turn and go with it and 
try to find shelter. 

“Harder and fiercer the storm raged, until we 


80 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

could not see a yard in front of us. In fact, we 
both had to shut our eyes and chance to luck. 
Mile after mile I galloped with the storm, some- 
times half lifted in the air, and again at other 
times half buried in the sand. Bill never struck 
me once, but occasionally he would reach over 
and pat my neck and say, ‘Poncho, old boy. Pon- 
cho, old boy. Good old fellow.’ Now those pats 
did not cost Bill anything and they did me more 
good than I can tell. I knew that possibly we 
were both to be buried in the sand, yet I made 
up my mind that if good horse sense, and four 
strong legs could carry Bill to safety, we’d get 
there somehow. 

“At last night came on, although it had been 
dark ever since the sand storm struck us, and as 
there were no indications of the wind going 
down, Bill decided to stop and rest on the wind- 
ward side of a sand dune we had run up against. 
Both of us were hungry as a gray wolf, and 
would have given a great deal for a drink of 
water. Poor Bill ; I felt more sorry for him than 
I did for myself, because I knew he had a sweet- 
heart down at Cheyenne, and if he never got back 
alive it would break her heart. For myself I 
had only Bill, and he was with me. 

“When Bill got off he loosened the girths of 


SAND STORM ON THE PLAINS 


81 


the saddle and then placed one arm over my 
neck, and, turning his back to the storm, he said : 
‘Poncho, we’ll die game, if we die at all, won’t 
we?’ 

“My, how that storm raged, and how the wind 
shrieked. I never saw anything like it before 
or since, and I hope I never will. 

“After we had been behind the dune a little 
while and got the sand dug out of our eyes we 
were able to open them, but it was then so dark 
that we couldn’t distinguish anything. All that 
night we stood there, Bill with his arm over my 
neck, and I with my head down, waiting for 
morning to break. Oh, how long it seemed. It 
appeared to me as if all the nights that had ever 
been were being rolled together into one long 
night, and that was upon us. Along towards 
morning Bill must have dozed off, for I felt his 
arm slip from my neck and he gently slid down 
on the sand, which was by this time heaped up 
nearly to my sides. I knew that if he lay down 
that he would be buried in the sand, so I turned 
and nipped him good and hard on the shoulder, 
and he awoke in a moment — for he really was 
asleep. ‘Thanks, old fellow,’ was all he said, but 
I knew he meant it. 


82 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“At last morning came and as the wind had 
gone down a little, we could see about us. Lying 
out to the south, not over twenty feet away, 
were a magnificent pair of antlers. We knew in 
a moment what they meant. An elk from the 
Wind River mountains had been driven along by 
the sand storm and after going as far as he could 
had fallen ; — the antlers marked his burial place. 

“Bill thought we could soon be on the move, 
but he was mistaken. In an hour the sand began 
to roll as turbulently as before, and all we could 
do was to wait. All that day the wind swept 
across the desert and the air was filled with sand, 
monstrous tumble weeds, rushes from the Bad 
Lands and every conceivable thing that can be 
found on the Laramie Plains. Darkness 
brought no relief, and, as it settled in, Bill said : 
‘Poncho, this is perhaps our last night on earth 
— I must sleep/ and a moment later he had 
crouched down on the sand. I, too, wanted to 
do the same, but I knew that if I slept that 
neither Bill nor I would ever awaken; so I 
braced up and stood on guard. 

“I had been so worried over the storm that I 
had forgotten about something to eat or water 
to drink, but as the second night dragged on 


SAND STORM ON THE PLAINS 


83 


nature began to assert her rights, and I felt as if 
I would die at any moment. Life is sweet, how- 
ever, even to a cow pony, and I fought off the 
stupor that kept coming over me. Then I 
thought of Bill and his sweetheart, and this gave 
me something to do, for the sand had already 
half covered poor Bill. I waited, not to disturb 
him, until it had come up to his face, as he lay 
in a half reclining position on his back, and 
then I pawed it away. Then I would wait again 
for the sand to pile up, and each time would 
paw it away. In this way I had my mind occu- 
pied and saved Bilks life. 

“Finally, fearing that Bill was dead, I touched 
him with my hoof and he awoke and sat up, but 
it was some time before he could stand. The 
cramped position in which he had lain, and his 
starved condition both benumbed and weakened 
him. At last he managed to get up, and, as the 
sand storm had abated somewhat, we left the 
sand dune and started across the plain, Bill lead- 
ing and I following. I would have been glad to 
have carried him, but he knew too well that I 
could not. 

“After we had gone a mile or so we ran onto 
a young deer which nad been caught in the storm 


84 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

and half buried alive. Bill’s sheath knife soon 
finished the animal, and then he cut out a juicy 
steak and devoured it. When he offered me a 
piece I shook my head, for I never did like veni- 
son, but Bill insisted, and I ate about three 
pounds and felt better. Cutting off several 
steaks, Bill rolled them in his bandanna, and 
again we pushed on. 

“All day we traveled, and at night, just as it 
began to get dark, Bill saw a light. We made 
straight for it, and soon Bill was resting in a 
sheep herder’s hut, and I was sheltered in the 
stable. 

“The next morning when we awoke the sun 
was shining and the fall birds were scooting 
through the air calling for their mates which 
had been blown away in the sand storm. All 
about the sheep herder’s hut lay sheet after sheet 
of white and brown sand, but that was all — 
every sheep he owned had been buried, just as 
Bill would have been had I failed to do my duty.” 

A cowboy was coming across the valley. Pon- 
cho saw him and remarked : “That’s Bill, now.” 
A few minutes later Bill came up and was ready 
to start back to his ranch, a hundred miles 
away. “Poncho has told me the story of the sand 


SAND STORM ON THE PLAINS 


85 


storm on the Laramie Plains,” I said, by way of 
introduction. “Poncho’s all right,” was Bill’s 
only reply. 

A little later Poncho and Bill were fading out 
of sight, the cow pony bounding along at an even 
gallop, and Bill filling the air with a western 
cowboy song. 


Wild £)uek’a Adventures 


ILD DUCK HAD LIVED UP ON 
the Rawhide for a long, long time — 
just how long no one seems to know, 
but the cowboys say they saw him 
there among the reeds and rushes at 
least a dozen years ago. Wild Duck 
is a handsome big fellow, with 
pretty colored feathers and a breast 
of silver and gold. All the ducks and 
geese and the little sand-pipers, too, that live 
along the banks of the Rawhide know him and 
call him Grandpa. 

It is one of the chief delights of Wild Duck 
to go on long journeys across the country, and 
it is said that he can fly as fast as an ex- 
press train can travel. In the late fall he often 
makes a trip to the swamps that lie west of Gal- 
veston, along the Gulf of Mexico, where 
hundreds and hundreds of other ducks pass 
a portion of the winter every year. On one 
of these trips Wild Duck saw a flock of 
tame ducks paddling about in a pool of 



WILD DUCK^S ADVENTURES 


87 


water near Hiawatha, on the banks of the 
Nemaha, a day’s flight from the Big Forks of the 
Rawhide. Wild Duck was hungry, as he had 
neglected to bring his lunch, and he tilted his 
wings first this way and then that way, and 
down he came, plump into the pond. 

“Quack, quack, quack,” said Wild Duck, as 
his breast touched the water. “Quack, quack, 
quack,” replied one of the tame ducks, and Wild 
Duck knew at once that he had fallen into good 
company. “Where on earth did you come from?” 
asked one of the tame ducks, who, by the way, 
was known in his flock as Jimmy Drake. “I 
came from way up north,” replied Wild Duck, 
“and I am so hungry that I couldn’t go any far- 
ther. That’s how I happened to make you this 
call.” 

Jimmy Drake was one of those wholesouled 
creatures, just like so many little boys and girls, 
who take delight in doing something for others. 
He saw at a glance the tired look in Wild Duck’s 
eyes, and taking him under his charge led him up 
the bank of the pond, across the barnyard, and 
out near the osage fence, to a great crib of golden- 
eared Kansas corn. “My, but that looks fine,” 
said Wild Duck, “almost as fine as if grown up 


88 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

in the Elkhorn Valley.” “Guess you don’t grow 
corn like that in Nebraska, do you?” inquired 
Jimmy Drake. “At least I have heard Snow 
Goose and Sand Piper both say so, and they 
ought to know, for they live up north, and every 
year they pass by here on their way to the 
South.” 

Wild Duck was too hungry to enter into a 
discussion of the merits of the Elkhorn valley 
corn, so he began to pluck the kernels from an 
ear that stuck out of the crib. While he was thus 
employed a Farmer Boy came out to get corn 
for the horses. He peeked around the corner, 
and, seeing Wild Duck gorging himself, decided 
to capture him. Bunning back to the barn a fish 
dip-net was secured, and before Wild Duck knew 
what was up he was floundering in the meshes. 

“Oh !” cried the Farmer Boy, “I have captured 
a wild duck.” 

“Don’t kill me, please,” pleaded Wild Duck. 
“J have done you no harm, and if you will let me 
out of this net I will fly away as fast as my wings 
will carry me.” 

“Not so fast, my pretty bird,” replied the 
Farmer Boy; “I have been trying to catch a wild 
duck like you, and now that I have done so I am 


WILD DUCK’S ADVENTURES 


89 


not foolish enough to let you go. Hereafter you 
will live with me.” 

“Then you won’t kill me?” inquired Wild 
Duck. 

“No, I won’t hurt you,” replied the Farmer 
Boy. “That is, if you don’t try to get away.” 

The Farmer Boy then took Wild Duck out of 
the net and clipped the tips of his pretty wings, 
so he could not fly. Then he fastened him up in 
a hen coop so that he might get acquainted with 
the surroundings before he let him go out to 
paddle with the tame ducks. 

For ten days or more Wild Duck remained in 
the hen coop, and each morning Jimmy Drake 
would come and cheer him up, and tell him of 
the good times they were to have when Wild 
Duck had been liberated from his temporary 
prison. 

These visits did Wild Duck a world of good; 
but as soon as Jimmy Drake had gone, there 
would come over the stranger from the Rawhide 
a feeling such as little boys and girls experience 
when they are away from their parents for the 
first time and night comes on. Wild Duck had 
never felt that way before, but he soon learned 
that he was homesick. 


90 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Poor Wild Duck. How he longed to get out 
of the hen coop and skim through the air — no 
matter in what direction, just so he could get 
away. Little did he know that he could not fly 
if let out. That was a blow yet to come to be 
added to his other grief, and happy it was that 
he did not know, or he might have died in his 
prison of a broken heart. 

One morning the Farmer Boy came to the hen 
coop and let Wild Duck out. As the fresh breeze 
ruffled his feathers the bird brightened, and tak- 
ing a farewell look, as he believed, at his late 
home, he said, rather saucily : “I think I will be 
going.” “Going where?” echoed the Farmer 
Boy. Wild Duck did not reply, but cupping his 
wings he made a plunge upward — only to fall 
back to the ground. “What are you trying to 
do?” asked the Farmer Boy. “To fly away,” re- 
plied Wild Duck. “But your wings are clipped, 
and you can’t,” explained the boy. 

At first Wild Duck could not understand what 
had happened. He knew his pretty wings had 
been cut off at the ends, but he had never sus- 
pected that this would have anything to do with 
his flying. Again and again he tried to rise in 
the air, but each time he fell back with a thud 


WILD DUCK^S ADVENTURES 


91 


that racked his body. All at once the full 
import of his position dawned on him and he ran 
back in the hen coop, and tucking his head under 
his wing, so the Farmer Boy could not see him 
cry, he shed tears which he felt were justified. 

The Farmer Boy then went down to the pond 
and drove Jimmy Drake and the other tame 
ducks up to the hen coop, but for a long time 
Wild Duck would not come out. At last he did 
so, and when Jimmy Drake and his friends went 
back to the pond, Wild Duck went along. 

All that day the ducks swam about in the 
water, and by night Wild Duck had begun to feel 
better. At dark the tame ducks waded out and 
started toward the barn. “Where are you go- 
ing?” asked Wild Duck. “To the barn to sleep 
in the straw,” replied Jimmy Drake; “and we 
want you to come with us.” “But I always spend 
the night in the water,” replied Wild Duck, and 
no amount of coaxing would induce him to leave 
the pond. 

It was past midnight, and Wild Duck had just 
gotten out on the bank to look for worms, when, 
without any warning, a fox started from under- 
neath a row of willows and all but caught him. 
As it was, a number of his brightest feathers 
were left in the mouth of the fox. 


92 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Swimming and diving to the middle of the 
pond, Wild Duck went as fast as he could, and 
then turning and looking back he saw a pair of 
great fiery eyes staring at him from the shadow 
of the bank. Several times the fox waded out 
in the water a little way, but Wild Duck knew 
that the fox was a poor swimmer, because he had 
seen other foxes up north, and he went “Quack, 
quack, quack,” just to make the fox angry. 

Finding that he could not catch Wild Duck in 
the water the fox tried a ruse, as foxes often do 
when luring their game to destruction. He would 
growl and snap at the bird and then glide away 
in the bright moonlight, intending to give Wild 
Duck the idea that he had gone for good. Then 
he would creep back from another direction to 
catch his prey, if the bird had left the water. 
But Wild Duck had not helped raise brood after 
brood of little wild ducks up in the rice swamps 
along the Kawhide and Lodge Pole for nothing, 
where the coyote roams about much as the fox 
does, and he stayed in the middle of the pond 
until the Farmer Boy came out in the early 
morning to feed his horses. The fox saw the 
Farmer Boy and scampered away over the hills, 
and Wild Duck lost no time in getting out and 


WILD DUCK'S ADVENTURES 


93 


hastening to the barn, where he found Jimmy 
Drake and the rest of the ducks fast asleep. 
Cuddling down among them Wild Duck vowed 
he would never again try to remain on the pond 
all night. 

For a long time Wild Duck lived on the farm 
with Jimmy Drake and his friends. He had be- 
come as tame as any of the ducks, and had given 
up the idea of ever being able to fly. But his 
wings were growing all the time. The growth 
had been so gradual that he had not noticed it, 
and probably never would had he not overheard 
the Farmer Boy say, “Guess I'll have to clip 
Wild Duck's wings again, or he may take a no- 
tion to leave." 

That night Wild Duck did not go to the barn 
with the other ducks. He remained out on the 
pond, and as soon as the moon had come up, so 
he could see in what direction to go, he flapped 
his wings a time or two to try their strength, and 
then he shot upward and took a course north. 

A few days later Wild Duck was helping to 
build a nest for his mate in the reeds and rushes 
along the Rawhide. 


7 


$ong Kern $oses 2lh temper 


LUE STEM GRASS MAY BE ALL 
right,” said Long Horn, a Texas steer 
from the Panhandle territory, as he 
nibbled at a bunch and paused to talk 
to a Nebraska steer, “but to my way 
of thinking it does not come up to the 
mesquit bushes of the Lone Star 
State.” 

“Steers down there don’t eat from 
trees, do they?” asked the Nebraskan. 

“Eat from them! Well, I rather guess they 
do,” replied Long Horn, “and what is more, they 
like it. I wouldn’t give one mesquit bush for 
fifty miles of your grass up in this country.” 

The Nebraskan began to smile at the absurdity 
of the proposition, and it kindled the ire of the 
Texas steer to such an extent that he asked, 
stiffly, what he had said that should evoke mirth. 

“Nothing particularly funny about what you 
said,” explained the Nebraskan, “except that I 
have learned something that I never knew 
before.” 



LONG HORN LOSES HIS TEMPER 


95 


“What is it?” asked Long Horn, with a con- 
temptuous toss of his head. 

“Oh, it isn’t much,” replied the Northerner, 
“except that I have found out why the necks of 
all Texas steers are so long. They become that 
way by stretching up after leaves on the top 
limbs.” 

Prom that day on, as long as the two steers 
remained on the range, Long Horn never again 
spoke to the Westerner. 


“'did Monarch” ffelh a i$tori( 

LD MONARCH,” WHO IS NOW 
passing his declining years at River- 
view park, is said to be the largest 
buffalo in the world. He refuses to 
discuss his age, although it is known 
from what Buffalo Bill said, when he 
loaned him to Omaha, that he is a 
very old animal, and at the same time 
a very intelligent one. 

Old Monarch had a mate once, hut she died not 
long ago, and since then he has tramped back 
and forth in his yard like a caged lion. Occa- 
sionally he will pause and bellow as loud as he 
can, expecting an answering call. 

One afternoon when a number of boys and 
girls called to see Old Monarch, after they had 
given him an armful of clover, he agreed to tell 
them the story of the first native cattle that ever 
grazed on the Nebraska prairies, providing one 
of the little girls would remove her hat, which 
was covered with bright red poppies. “I can’t 
understand how it is,” said Old Monarch, “but 



“old monarch” tells a story 


97 


as soon as I see a red object I lose my temper, 
and I really believe that I would some time do 
harm if I was not afraid of the keeper.” 

The little girl removed her hat, and after hid- 
ing it came back, and they all waited for the 
buffalo to begin. 

“I think it was in 1860,” began Old Monarch, 
as he scratched his head with one hind foot, 
while trying to recall the date, “that I saw the 
first native cattle that ever came west of Omaha. 
It was while the Creightons were building the 
‘Overland’ telegraph line from the Missouri 
river to the Pacific coast. Cattle were used to 
haul the supplies, instead of horses, and lumber- 
ing big fellows they were. The first time I 
caught a glimpse of them was near Plum Hol- 
low, but I was so far away that I could not see 
them plainly. I was a little buffalo calf then 
and did not know what fear was. 

“I had just started down a draw to where the 
cattle had been turned out to graze, when I saw 
a man on an Indian pony coming toward me on 
a gallop. I saw he carried something bright in 
his hands, and occasionally he would stop and 
raise the object to his shoulder, and then a little 
puff of white smoke would come out, and a buz- 


98 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

zing noise, like a bumble bee, would whiz by me. 
Finally he got pretty close, and just after an- 
other puff of smoke I felt a stinging sensation. 
In a moment it flashed through my mind that I 
had been shot, for I recalled hearing my grand- 
mother tell of how she was wounded in the same 
manner by a Sioux Iffdian. 

“As I gathered my thoughts I looked at my 
side and saw a red stream trickling down. Then 
I turned and ran for dear life, and by crossing 
a steep defile, and dodging behind some sand 
dunes, I threw the hunter off my track and got 
away. 

“It is needless for me to say that I had a very 
sore spot for quite a while, but I was young and 
strong and eventually got well. It was while I 
was recovering from my experience with the 
hunter that I found more time than usual to 
study the cattle the Creightons had with them. 

“One night while a number of them were graz- 
ing up a canon I went down to where they were 
and introduced myself. At first I could not un- 
derstand a single word they said, but I soon be- 
gan to note a similarity in their language and 
my own. For instance, when one of them would 
say ‘Oo-oo-oo-oo/ I replied ‘Oo-oo-oo-oo/ and 


“OLD MONARCH” TELLS A STORY 


99 


the sounds were almost identical. Well, the next 
night I w T ent back and stayed until morning, and 
when I left I had learned several words. I kept 
up those visits for a week, at the end of which 
time I could talk pretty fair ‘native steer.’ 

“You must not think that these midnight trips 
of mine were free from danger, because they 
were not. There was always a night herder, and 
if he had seen me I would not be here to tell this 
story. 

“This is all that happened along in the sum- 
mer months, and as the camp of the contractors 
was moved I made it a point to move with them, 
always keeping in the hills in the day time, for I 
was afraid another hunter would get a shot at 
me. Along in the fall, just after it had begun to 
get cold, and the grass was getting pretty dry, 
the Creightons saw they were running out of 
feed for their cattle, so they turned on the range 
about twenty great, big, strapping oxen to shift 
for themselves. 

“The moment those oxen were thrown upon 
their own resources they lost courage, and one 
of them, ‘Old Baldy’ I think he was called, told 
me in confidence afterwards that he expected 
they would starve to death. Here was a chance 


L.cFC. 


100 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

to show them that even a wild buffalo has a 
heart, so I rounded them all up and told them 
that if they would trust me I would take them to 
a canyon down on the Clearwater where there was 
plenty of grass the year around, and any amount 
of good water. ‘Trust you/ replied Old Baldy; 
‘of course we will trust you. Take the lead and 
we will follow/ and they did. I took them to 
the Clearwater, where we found winter quarters. 

“The next spring while we were out one day 
nipping the soft new grass we saw two horsemen 
coming over the divide, and in a moment they 
were rounding us up. ‘Gracious, but those cat- 
tle are in fine shape/ said one of the men. ‘Good 
enough for beef/ replied the other, and by that 
I knew it was about time I was getting out of 
there. 

“The herders had ridden a long ways and de- 
cided to camp in the canyon until the next morn- 
ing, when they were to start back with the cattle. 
That night I hunted up Old Baldy, and after 
telling him good-by, I quietly slipped away and 
started north, to where I knew I could find my 
own folks. 

“No, I never saw any of those cattle again, but 
I heard Buffalo Bill tell a friend, years after- 


“old monarch” tells a story 


101 


ward, that the winter Creightons’ cattle passed 
on the range and in the Clearwater canyon was 
the opening wedge for grazing on the western 
plains,” 


Aright’# $ir#t 9rip to dike’s 9eak 


LD STORIES ARE SOMETIMES 
like old wine; better for their age, 
providing they have not been tam- 
pered with. I recall a story that was 
told me, way back in the early sixties, 
by Bright, the handsomest ox I ever 
knew. My father was a freighter and 
hauled various things from the Mis- 
souri River up along the Platte, past 
Cottonwood and Julesburg, to Pike’s Peak. Oxen 
were used in those days, and it generally took 
about four months to make the round trip. At- 
tached to each monstrous wagon were generally 
from six to ten yoke of oxen, and when the wag- 
ons were all strung out in a row, they made a 
caravan nearly a mile in length. 

The leaders for one of the outfits were 
“Bright” and “Buck,” two matched roan steers, 
and the way they brought the other oxen into 
line, and made them take up the kink in their 
part of the chain, was a caution. Buck was 
gentle and good as Bright, but unlike his mate 



BRIGHT^ FIRST TRIP TO PIKERS PEAK 103 

lie would never talk, unless to bellow for a drink 
of water, or to tell the wagon boss that his 
shoes were loose. Bright talked whenever he 
got an opportunity, and that is how he came to 
tell me of his first trip across the plains. 

“I shall never forget my first trip to Pike’s 
Peak,” said Bright. “It was during the late 
summer of ’59 when our outfit left the big store- 
houses down on the banks of the Missouri and 
started westward. The weather was fine and 
the grass all that any ox could ask for. The first 
day we did not go very far and camped that 
night on Turkey Creek, but next morning we 
were on the road at sunrise, and by dark had 
reached Salt Creek, where we had a good night’s 
rest. The next day was a repetition of the for- 
mer ones, and we were soon pushing our way far 
into the unknown country, where red men had 
roamed for ages, and watering places were a 
luxury. 

“We passed along the almost unmarked trail 
unmolested, and forded the broad Platte, first at 
old Fort Kearney, and then farther up the river. 
I recall hearing one of the men say : ‘Bill, if the 
Indians don’t bother us, we will soon be in sight 
of Pike’s Peak.’ When I heard them say ‘In- 


104 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

dians’ I was frightened almost to death, and 
whispered to Buck that if they came we should 
slip our yoke and take the back track as fast as 
we could go. Buck was willing to run on the 
slightest provocation, for his feet were getting 
sore and the drifting sand hurt his eyes. 

“We saw no Indians that day or the next, but 
on the third day, just as some one called out, 
‘There’s Pike’s Peak, away to the southwest,’ I 
looked, and what do you suppose I saw? ‘Pike’s 
Peak,’ you will say. Yes, I saw the mountain, 
about 150 miles off, but I saw something else — 
what appeared to be a whole army of Indians on 
ponies coming down toward us on the dead run, 
yelling as if their throats would burst. ‘Get 
ready to bolt,’ I said to Buck, and I began to 
slacken up on the lead chain and work my neck 
back in the yoke. Closer and closer the Indians 
came, and every time they yelled I thought I 
should die. At last I could stand it no longer, 
and I said, so low that the driver could not hear 
me: ‘Buck, now’s our time;’ and I backed up and 
gave the yoke a forward jerk, expecting to be 
free. Buck did the same thing, and then we both 
turned and looked at each other like a couple of 
simpletons — we had forgotten our horns and the 
yoke would not come off. 


BRIGHT^S FIRST TRIP TO PIKERS PEAK 105 

“And that was not the worst of it. Onr 
driver, seeing ns hanging back, uncoiled his long 
bull whip, and at a distance of at least twenty 
feet, slit my ‘off’ ear as effectually as if a knife 
had gone through it.” 

“But what about the Indians?” I asked. 

“The Indians were not hostile,” resumed 
Bright. “They were a lot of Pawnees, and had 
made the noise and raced their horses merely 
for sport. What they wanted was sugar, flour 
and coffee, a quantity of which they got in ex- 
change for buffalo robes, dried buffalo meat and 
beaver skins. 

“In time we got to Denver, which was then 
called Pike’s Peak back in the states, and un- 
loaded, and two weeks later were on our journey 
home. There was some freight to bring back, 
but not nearly as much as was taken out, so we 
made good time. When near Julesburg it began 
to get colder and snow a little. I guess your 
father knew what was coming, for that night I 
heard him say : ‘Boys, it looks to me like a bliz- 
zard. Bound up the wagons in a circle and put 
the cattle on the inside, or they may stray away.’ 
The wagons were placed end to end, from right 
to left, until no opening was left, except where 


106 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

the cattle were driven in. By this time the air 
was full of flying ice and snow and soon the storm 
broke furiously. 

“There was but little feed, and we were all 
put on half rations. Many an ox went to bed 
hungry that night. I remember that Buck cried 
until he fell asleep, because he had such an 
empty feeling in his stomach.” 

“Did it snow much?” I asked. 

“Did it snow much?” replied Bright. “I 
should say that it did. It just roared and 
stormed, and kept it up for eleven days, by the 
end of which time several of the best oxen in the 
bunch had died — frozen to death or starved, I 
don’t know which. 

“But how did the men stand the blizzard?” 

“Every man in the crowd had his ears and toes 
frozen,” replied Bright; “and they all would have 
frozen to death if they had not chopped up ox 
yokes and wagons to make fires. There was no 
wood for miles and miles, and all they could get 
to burn was green willows which grew along the 
banks of the Platte. It was the ox yokes and 
wagons that saved their lives. 

“The night of the eleventh day of the storm 
the wind went down and it cleared off. The 


biught’s first trip to pike's peak 107 


morning of the twelfth it turned warmer, and 
the men began to talk of resuming their trip. It 
was two days later, however, before we got off 
and came on home. You know what shape the 
entire outfit was in.” 

Old Bright has been dead many years, yet his 
story, told me so long ago, seems no farther off 
than yesterday. 


ZJiipper Joels 3th grandmother 

LD GRANDMOTHER BEAR HAD 
been living alone up on the Big Pap- 
pio for several years — in fact, ever 
since her daughter, Tootsey, fell in 
love with a wandering musician, mar- 
ried him and with him left the coun- 
try. Tootsey was a brown bear and 
the musician a cinnamon bear, but 
she loved him just the same. And at 
last, one day, Tootsey returned and brought with 
her four little bears, Nipper, Judge, Buttons and 
Sissy, and Grandmother lived alone no longer. 

Grandma Bear had just finished the week’s 
washing and was hanging the clothes out on a 
bunch of wild gooseberry bushes to dry that day 
when she heard a noise on the opposite side of 
the Big Pappio. She listened and heard a voice 
say: “Fm sure your grandmother lives in this 
bend of the creek, but I can’t find a way to get 
across to the other side.” 

In a moment Grandma Bear knew it was Toot- 
sey, and she started through the brush to the 



NIPPER FOOLS HIS GRANDMOTHER 109 

place from which the voices came, smoothing 
down her hair as she hurried along. As she 
neared the bank of the stream she espied her 
daughter with four of the cutest little bears she 
had ever seen. 

“That’s you, isn’t it, Tootsey?” called Grand- 
ma Bear. “Yes, it is I, mother,” replied Tootsey, 
“and we have come to stay a long time and visit 
you.” “I’m so glad,” replied grandma. “Hurry 
over, as I have a nice fat badger on the fire boil- 
ing for my dinner, and will willingly share it 
with you.” “But how are we to get across?” 
inquired Tootsey. “I’m afraid the children will 
drown if we try to swim.” “Excuse me,” ex- 
plained Grandma Bear, “I forgot that you do not 
know where the bridge is. Take the children up 
the stream about a quarter of a mile and you will 
come to a big elm tree. Climb that tree and go 
out on the second limb, over the water, and there 
you will find a grape vine. Climb down the vine 
and you will be on this side of the Big Pappio.” 

Tootsey and the children soon found the tree 
and all of them had gotten across safely except 
Nipper, when the vine broke, just as Judge 
swung clear of it, and there was Nipper out on 
the limb, with no way of following his mother. 


8 


110 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

Nipper was a brave little bear, having been 
raised in the mountains, and he told his mother 
to take Judge, Buttons and Sissy and go to 
Grandma Bear’s cave and tell her of what had 
happened and ask her advice. 

Tootsey and the children soon found Grandma 
Bear’s home, and after being kissed and hugged, 
as only bears know how to hug, Tootsey told her 
mother of the sad plight of Nipper. “Thought I 
missed one,” said Grandma, “but you have so 
many children, Tootsey, that I wasn’t sure and 
so didn’t say anything about it.” “But how can 
we get Nipper across?” asked Tootsey. “The 
only way I know of is to build a raft,” replied 
Grandma Bear, “unless he goes up the Big Pap- 
pio for about seven miles, where there is a log 
that he can come over on.” 

It was getting late in the afternoon, and fear- 
ing that Nipper might get lost, his mother de- 
cided that they had better make a raft, which 
they did, from old dry willow poles, and in the 
course of time Nipper was being welcomed by his 
Grandma. 

That night Tootsey and her mother sat up 
late and talked of old days, while the children 
cuddled down in one corner of the cave, which 
was Grandma Bear’s home, and slept. 


NIPPER FOOLS HIS GRANDMOTHER 


111 


Tootsey had just finished telling her mother 
about how her lamented husband, the handsome 
cinnamon bear, had tried to chew up a stick of 
dynamite, which he found in an old mine, and 
succeeded to such an extent that nothing but a 
jack-knife, which he always carried, was ever 
found of him, when Nipper began to sneeze. He 
didn’t sneeze just once and stop, but kept it up. 
“Fm sure that Nipper has taken his death of 
cold,” Tootsey said to her mother. “He sat up 
on that limb nearly two hours while we were 
building the raft and didn’t have a single thing 
around him, poor child.” 

“Don’t worry, Tootsey,” replied Grandma 
Bear. “Nipper is all right.” “Then why on 
earth doesn’t he stop sneezing, so a fellow can 
sleep?” asked Buttons. “I am tired and can’t 
even think of sleeping, let alone going to sleep.” 

Again several sharp “ker-chews” came from 
Nipper, followed by a cough, and then another 
“ker-chew.” 

“That settles it,” said Tootsey excitedly, as 
she jumped up and began to poke the fire to 
make the cave lighter. “Nipper has the hay fever 
and I know it, and the sooner we get a doctor the 
better.” 


112 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 


“The nearest doctor lives four miles away,” 
explained Grandma Bear, “but I have some of 
Dr. Barn’s Elixir of Walnut Hulls which he 
gave me for the toothache. We might try that 
on him.” 

“Get it quick,” replied Tootsey, and she hur- 
ried over to Nipper just as he went “ker-chew” 
four or five times. 

The elixir was brought and Nipper was told 
to get ready to take it. “I don’t want any of 
that nasty stuff,” insisted the little bear. “Take 
it back to Doctor Ram and tell him to take it 
himself.” “But you must take it, dear,” replied 
his mother, “or you will die, and then what 
will mamma do without Nipper?” 

But Nipper still objected, and when he saw 
his grandmother coming with a big wooden 
spoon, that held about a teacupful, he rebelled 
more openly than before. 

In vain did Grandma Bear and Tootsey try to 
get Nipper to take the medicine. All he would 
do was to go “ker-chew,” until a happy thought 
struck him, and he said he would take it if But- 
tons, Judge, Sissy and his grandmother would 
take some first. Buttons objected with a growl. 
Judge said that Nipper could die a dozen times 


XIFPER FOOLS HIS GRANDMOTHER 


113 


before lie would take a drop, and Sissy began to 
err as loud as she could. Grandma Bear was 
making awful faces at the idea of taking a dose 
of the medicine, but seeing that Nipper must be 
cared for, or he might die, she at last set an ex- 
ample by taking the first dose. Sissy, like the 
dear little heart she was, stopped her crying and 
told her grandmother to give her the medicine, 
and a moment later she, too, had taken a dose. It 
was Judge’s turn next., and, although he raised 
all the objections possible, he finally had to give 
in, and the third spoonful disappeared. “Now, 
Buttons, it is your turn,” said grandma, but But- 
tons only growled and would not make a move to- 
ward where his grandma stood with the big 
spoon in her paw until Tootsey picked up a 
switch and started in his direction. Then he 
gave up and down went the medicine. 

In the meantime Nipper was sneezing with all 
his might. He did his best to stop, but it was no 
use, for the harder he tried to keep from it, the 
more he would “ker-chew.” It was now his turn, 
sure, and as his grandmother approached for the 
second time, spoon in hand, she said, “Now, Nip- 
per, darling, this is for you.” As she said this, 
Nipper began to smile. Then he burst into a 


114 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

hearty laugh. “What on earth are you laughing 
at?” asked Grandma Bear. “Nothing much,” re- 
plied Nipper. “You are on the brink of death, 
child, and should not laugh. You may die,” ex- 
plained his grandmother; but Nipper continued 
to laugh and laugh, even forgetting to sneeze. 
Turning to Tootsey, Grandma Bear said : 
“Daughter, come here and make Nipper tell what 
he is laughing at.” Before his mother could get 
to his side Nipper broke out in another hearty 
laugh, and as he did so pointed at the bottle 
Grandma Bear held in her paw. 

“What do you mean, Nipper?” asked his 
mother, fearing that her little one had gone mad. 
Nipper continued to point one of his paws at the 
bottle, and his grandmother finally did look. 
Then she, too, began to laugh — the bottle was 
empty. Grandma and the other little bears had 
taken it all. 

No, Nipper did not die. The next morning he 
was as well as ever; and since that time when- 
ever any of Tootsey’s children are sick, she tells 
them funny stories to make them laugh, instead 
of giving them nasty medicine. 


iikert Korn $ets Jnformathn 

EVERAL THOUSAND CATTLE, OF 
ail sizes, colors and ages, were mov- 
ing about in the pens of the big stock 
market at South Omaha one morn- 
ing, when a Steer from the plains and 
a Short Horn from the farm met for 
the first time. The Westerner was 
long and somewhat lank, while the 
Short Horn was stout and chunky. 
One had been raised on the prairies, while the 
other had never been off the section of land 
where he was born until lie came to the market, 
together with a number of his fellows. The 
Westerner eyed the rural steer with a glance 
akin to contempt, and the steer from the farm 
said to himself: “That steer from the range 
hasn’t a pound of porterhouse on his body.” 

A yardman came and turned on the water in 
a long trough that extended the length of the 
pen, and soon the cattle were crowding each 
other in an effort to get a drink. As it happened 
the steer from the West and the one from the 



116 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

farm stood side by side and drank their fill. As 
the Short Horn pushed back to get out of the 
crush he turned to the Westerner and said: 
“That water tastes like home.” “It doesn’t to 
me,” replied the Westerner, “for I have been 
used to alkali water, which makes this appear a 
little too smooth.” 

The Short Horn couldn’t understand why any 
sane steer should object to pure Missouri river 
water, but being a seeker after knowledge he fell 
in with the views of his neighbor and said : “Yes, 
it does appear to be rather smooth, and it strikes 
the spot, and that is all that a steer can ask for.” 

The two steers, as if by mutual consent, went 
over to one end of the pen and began to look 
through the cracks. Finally the Short Horn 
asked abruptly: “What part of the country did 
you come from?” 

“From out on the Laramie plains,” replied the 
Westerner, “and after getting the jolting that I 
did on the trip down, I wish I had never started. 
I am so lame in my back that I can hardly stand 
up, and even my feet are sore. I am not used to 
being cooped up.” 

“I have heard that the steers out on the range 
have all the room they want and can go where 


SHORT HORN GETS INFORMATION 


117 


they please,” replied the Short Horn, with a view 
of inducing the stranger to tell him something 
of interest about western life. 

The western steer was proud of the rolling 
plains, the grassy valleys, and blue sky, and it 
was no difficult task to engage him in conversa- 
tion on the subject. He began by saying: “You 
cattle down in this part of the country don’t 
know what life is. In fact you have never really 
lived — that is, never seen life at its best. It is 
true that I am only a three-year-old, but during 
that short space of time I have roamed over hun- 
dreds and hundreds of miles of the fairest coun- 
try that the sun ever shone upon. While doing 
this I have eaten of the most succulent grasses 
and herbs imaginable, and have been branded 
twice.” 

“What do you mean by being branded?” asked 
the Short Horn. 

“Well, well, you never heard of a brand. If 
you had been in my place you would know all 
about it, and I’ll warrant you that you would 
have shed gallons of tears.” 

“Tell me about it,” insisted the Short Horn. 

“Ho you see those queer shaped letters and 
characters on my hips? Well, those were made 


118 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

by two different kinds of branding irons. When 
I was a little calf my first owner put his brand 
upon me with a red hot iron, which burned all 
the hair away and left a scar. When I was a 
two-year-old I changed owners and was branded 
again. I guess the next mark will be when the 
‘executioner’ taps me on the forehead with his 
hammer, just before sending me to the depart- 
ment where I will be relieved of my hide and 
sent to the cooling room to be chilled for 
market.” 

“Bless my heart,” exclaimed the Short Horn; 
“you certainly take a gloomy view of your 
future. Surely no one intends to kill you, do 
they?” 

“You just wait and see. And, by the way, I 
would advise you to begin to prepare for the 
same road.” 

“But I am a Short Horn,” replied the product 
of the rural district, “and they would not kill 
me for beef. I am too fine blooded.” 

It was seen, however, that the Short Horn was 
getting uneasy, and catching sight of the big 
packing house not far away, sending aloft great 
puffs of black, sooty substance, he asked: “Can 
you tell me what that is?” 


SHORT HORN GETS INFORMATION 


119 


“Yes, that is the smoke which comes from one 
of the packing establishments located here, at 
one of which yon and I will meet our death. I 
knew what was coming before I left home and 
bade my friends and relatives good-by, but I 
suppose that you thought you were merely com- 
ing down here on a pleasure trip.” 

“I certainly did,” replied the Short Horn ; “but 
perhaps you are right. Now that I recall it, I 
overheard a strange man say to my owner the 
day before I was loaded on the cars that ‘Short 
Horns make good beef.’ Oh, my, my, and to 
think that I never said good-by to any one,” 
and the steer began to sob gently and chew his 
cud, accompanying the movement of his jaws 
with violent shakings of the head. 

“No use in worrying over things that can’t be 
helped,” consolingly said the Westerner. “We 
are both destined to travel the same road, and 
before another sun comes up, to smooth out the 
wrinkles of night, you and I will cease to be live 
steers, and our rumps, roasts, steaks and soup 
bones will be on their way to market.” 

Just then a “buyer” and a “seller” entered 
the pen, and after a few words the buyer said: 
“Bill, I’ll take the bunch. Weigh them up to 
me.” 


hunting the Water Mole 


TRAIN LOAD OP CATTLE WERE 
on their way in from the Deer Creek 
range to be sold on the market at 
Omaha. In one of the cars was Lanky 
Abe, a steer known to all the other 
cattle from Deer Creek to Casper, for 
his odd ways and prolific fund of in- 
formation. It was said, in fact, that 
no steer ever bred in Wyoming could 
tell so many stories, and such droll ones, as 
Lanky Abe, and in consequence he was a general 
favorite. 

The town of Glen Rock had been passed and 
the long train was entering the valley of the 
La Bonte, when Abe looked out between the 
slats of his car and said: “Boys, that water 
over there makes me thirsty.” “You are al- 
ways thirsty, aren’t you?” inquired a steer at 
the end of the car. “I guess that’s true,” replied 
Lanky Abe, “and I have a right to be. I in- 
herited a thirst from my grandmother.’’ 

All of the steers bellowed with merriment, but 



HUNTING THE WATER HOLE 


121 


Abe did not mind. Finally one of the steers 
said: “Abe, suppose you tell us about your 
grandmother, and why you are always dry.” “All 
right,” replied Abe; “Fll tell you a true story, 
and perhaps it will be the last one, for at the rate 
we are bowling along I think we’ll soon be where 
they turn live steers into beefsteak in short 
order. 

“When my grandmother, on my mother’s side, 
was a little heifer about a year old she ranged 
on a strip of country known as the Snake River 
Desert — not exactly out on the desert, but on the 
plains at the side. With her were thousands of 
other cattle that had been brought from all por- 
tions of the West, and, if I am not mistaken, some 
of them had been driven from Texas. The coun- 
try was beautiful. Off to the north and a little 
west ran the Lost River Mountains, to the 
south of which was the Little Lost River, and, 
still farther south, the Big Lost River. Along 
those streams the grass grew sweet and juicy, 
and my grandmother said no better grazing 
country ever lay out doors. 

“I think it was in the summer of ’74 when the 
two rivers went dry. The water had been get- 
ting lower and lower daily, and finally one morn- 


122 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

ing, when the cattle went down to get a drink, 
there was not a drop in sight. There were no 
cowboys with the cattle, and, as they had to look 
out for themselves, it was soon apparent to the 
older cattle that they must either find water in 
a short time, or die. In the herd was an old bull 
who had lived in that locality for a good many 
years, and he told the cattle that if they would 
follow him he would take them to a water hole. 
They all started, my grandmother with the rest. 
How far they had gone they had no means of 
telling, but along in the afternoon the old bull 
stopped, snorted, pawed the sand a few times to 
show his displeasure, and said : Tm an old fool. 
I have not only lost myself in the Snake River 
Desert, but all the rest of you are lost, and I 
alone am to blame.’ ‘I hope it isn’t far to the 
water hole,’ ventured my grandmother. ‘Little 
calves like you are to be seen and not heard,’ 
savagely replied the old bull. 

“In all directions there was nothing but a 
waste of sand and alkali-blistered earth. Here 
and there were a few scrubby cacti and scatter- 
ing sage brush strung out toward the great Saw 
Tooth mountains, that loomed up on the horizon 
far to the west, but there was not a blade of grass 
nor a drop of water for leagues and leagues. 


HUNTING THE WATER HOLE 


123 


“At last the old bull remembered Mud Lake, 
which is not far from the Snake River, a long 
distance to the south and east, and he proposed 
going there. 

“It was the only thing to be done, and the herd 
started, and by sundown had traveled many 
miles. That night they rested and were up 
early the next morning and on their way to Mud 
Lake. By noon the hot sun had caused many to 
drop exhausted, but the old bull still kept the 
lead. Once or twice my grandmother had to lie 
down and rest, but before the herd was out of 
sight she would get up and follow. Night came 
for the second time on the desert, and many of 
the herd had perished of hunger and thirst. ‘We 
mustn’t stop until we get to Mud Lake/ said the 
old bull, and he pushed on and the cattle with 
him. 

“It was long after nightfall and the herd was 
coming up out of a little valley when all at once 
the old bull stopped and snorted. Every beast 
stopped, too. Softly stealing through the air 
came the scent of water. The old bull thought 
at first that he was mistaken, but now he was 
sure that Mud Lake lay not far off. ‘Come/ was 
all he said, and in a moment all the cattle were 


124 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

racing pell mell over the sand and were soon 
quenching their thirst from the lake. My grand- 
mother was so weak that she could hardly walk, 
yet in time she got to the water and drank and 
drank until it seemed that she would burst. 

“At last the cattle had their fill, and they took 
time to turn and look about them, and what do 
you suppose was standing right by the side of 
my grandmother, lapping up the w a ter as 
eagerly as she? Nothing more nor less than a 
mountain lion! Then she looked up along the 
bank of the lake and out in the water and saw 
other lions, bears, coyotes, deer, elk and many 
other wild animals that had been driven out of 
the Lost River mountains for lack of water, yet 
there was not a single growl uttered — the awful 
experience that they had passed through had 
burned out their wildness and savage passions 
and, for the time, they were as gentle and harm- 
less as we.” 

“How long did the cattle stay at Mud Lake?” 
asked a steer from Pocatello. 

“Only a few days,” replied Lanky Abe. “A 
heavy rain storm came up and drenched the earth 
all over the range, even extending out on the 
Snake River Desert. When it ceased cowboys ar- 


HUNTING THE WATER HOLE 


125 


rived on a hunt for the cattle, and they were 
taken to another range. My grandmother never 
forgot her trip across the desert, and, strange as 
it may seem, not one of her descendants has ever 
been able to drink all the water they wanted.” 


9 


flow the Maverick 'Came to Reform 


HREE OLD COWS WERE LYING 
on the sunny side of a little knoll, up 
near North Platte, one afternoon, 
telling stories of round-ups in which 
they had taken part, when one of 
them happened to remark something 
about a Maverick. In a moment a 
little calf who was playing near by 
pricked up his ears and said : “Please 
tell me what a Maverick is.” 

All three of the old cows laughed heartily at 
the simplicity of the youngster, but the calf, not 
seeing the joke, asked to be enlightened. 

The oldest cow in the bunch was known as 
Roan, and to her lot fell the task of enlighten- 
ment. 

“A Maverick,” began old Roan, “is nothing 
more or less than you will be if you don’t mend 
your ways.” 

“But I am all right,” insisted the little calf. 
“I go wherever I please, and do no harm.” 

“That is just why you are drifting into Maver- 



HOW THE MAVERICK CAME TO REFORM 127 


ickdom,” continued the old cow. “You go from 
one place to another across the prairie, and some 
of these fine days a cowboy will come along and 
rope you, or catch you napping and throw you 
down and put his branding iron on you.” 

“But supposing I do not belong to him? I 
belong to the Bar-L ranch, you know, and all 
the cowboys up there like me so well that they 
would not hurt me.” 

“You belong to the Bar-L ranch now,” ex- 
plained Old Roan, “but if one of the X-Y-Z out- 
fit ever gets hold of you he will leave a mark on 
your hide that will cause you to change owner- 
ship.” 

“But why should he do that?” asked the calf. 

“Because you are a Maverick — just a plain, 
simple Maverick. You go romping about over 
the country, disobeying all orders about not go- 
ing off the Bar-L range, and one of these fine 
days you will see where you will end.” 

“Were you ever a Maverick,” asked the calf, 
addressing Old Roan. 

“No, I was never a Maverick myself, but I have 
seen several in my life. For instance, Aunt Bess, 
here by my side, was one when she was young.” 

“Tell me about it,” said the little calf, as he 


128 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

came closer. “Does it hurt to be a Maverick, 
and is the branding iron very hot?” 

“Hot? I should say it was,” replied Aunt 
Bess, as she shifted her cud and cleared her 
throat. “It is hotter than anything I could tell 
you about, and if you don’t expect to feel its 
sting by much ruder hands than the cowboys of 
the Bar-L ranch have, you had better stay nearer 
home.” 

“But how did you come to be a Maverick?” 
inquired the calf. 

“I was young and foolish, just as you are,” 
replied Aunt Bess; “and one day I ran away 
from home. I had been raised up on the J-U-J 
ranch, north of Sidney, and wanted to see more 
of the world than I was able to there. It was 
early in the morning when I slipped out of the 
herd, and without saying a word to any one I 
started north. After I had gone perhaps ten 
miles I missed my way in the sand-hills, and by 
night I was lost among the dunes, thirty miles 
to the northwest. I remember that I was awfully 
thirsty and my feet were sore, but I was unable 
to go back, for I did not know the way. So I lay 
down and slept until morning. 

“At daybreak I was awake, and much to my 


HOW THE MAVERICK CAME TO REFORM 129 


delight saw a bunch of cattle feeding down in the 
valley. I went to where they were and asked for 
water, which an old bull, who appeared to be on 
guard, pointed out to me, half a mile up the 
draw. After I had quenched my thirst I began 
to eat, and soon felt better. Then I lay down and 
rested until noon. 

“In the afternoon I went back to the cattle 
and told them I wanted to join their ranks — 
that I had run away from home and didn’t pro- 
pose to go back until I was able to do so with- 
out getting lost. ‘All right,’ replied the old bull ; 
‘You can stay as long as you like, but be careful 
and don’t try to get any of my calves to run 
away with you, or there will be trouble.’ 

“For ten days I was as happy as a young calf 
could be and had begun to feel at home, when 
one evening I saw a covered wagon drawn by a 
pair of horses, and several cowboys on bronchos, 
halt near us and go into camp. ‘What are those 
men doing there?’ I asked of a young steer of 
my acquaintance. ‘Just wait and see,’ he re- 
plied, and that was all the explanation I got. 

“Early next morning the cowboys began to 
ride around among us and separate the cows and 
calves from the steers and cows that had no 


130 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

calves with them. Of course I was taken with 
the other calves, and what do you suppose they 
did to us?” 

“I can’t imagine,” replied the little calf, with 
wide-open eyes. 

“They caught me, and before I knew it I had a 
red-hot branding iron slapped on my side, and it 
wasn’t the J-TJ-J brand either. * As one of the 
cowboys took his knee off my neck to let me get 
up, I heard him say: ‘Tom, this is a fine Mav- 
erick.’ ” 

As the old cow ceased speaking the little calf 
said: “Aunt Bess, I thank you for telling me 
what a Maverick really is, and you can be sure 
that if I ever leave the Bar-L ranch again it will 
be through no fault of mine,” 


Reunion of &teer# on the Rawhide 


HERE WAS A REUNION OF WEST- 
ern cattle in a pretty canyon upon 
the Rawhide, and Old Jolly, a battle- 
scarred steer, was selected as orator. 
Old Jolly had long desired to deliver 
the annual address at these gather- 
ings, which the steers held once a 
year, and now that he had really been 
chosen by the committee, he felt as 
proud as any western steer could. 

Old Jolly was not to share all of the honors of 
the occasion, however, for there was a reception 
committee that occupied a portion of the plat- 
form that the steers had made out of loose stones, 
that lay plentifully on the hillside. To the right 
of the orator was a steer from the Blue Bell 
range ; at the rear of the platform was one from 
the Big Pappio district, and to the left sat Dick, a 
savage looking old fellow who had long been 
known as the leader of his set — and it was a 
rather fast one — from Brady’s Island. Then 
there were several other steers on the commit- 



132 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

tee, but where they came from is of no conse- 
quence. 

At ten o’clock in the forenoon Dick walked to 
the front of the platform, and said: “Fellow 
steers, as you will soon see, you are to be ad- 
dressed on this occasion by Old Jolly, who has 
been selected for the same reason that I once 
heard a young woman give for marrying the man 
she did — to get rid of him. You all know Old 
Jolly, and I ask you on the part of the committee, 
of which I have the honor to be chairman, to give 
him your attention,” and Chairman Dick took 
his seat and wiped the perspiration from his 
face with the fuzzy end of his tail. 

Old Jolly had been studying his speech for 
two weeks and had gone over it out in the sand 
hills until he knew it by heart. He had even ar- 
ranged points where he expected bellows of ap- 
plause. But talking to himself and talking to a 
whole herd of steers, many of whom were stran- 
gers to him, he found to be two different 
things, and he trembled violently when he arose 
to his feet. 

“We are waiting for you,” said Chairman 
Dick. 

“I’m coming,” replied Old Jolly, his lips quiv- 


REUNION OF STEERS ON THE RAWHIDE 133 


ering and his knees knocking together as if he 
had an attack of ague. 

A whole minute passed, and still the orator 
was dumb. 

Thinking to give him a start, and at the same 
time mortified that he had helped select a 
speaker who should be attacked by stage fright, 
the steer from the Big Pappio gave Old Jolly a 
prod with one of his horns that caused him to 
rear up in the air. As his front hoofs again 
touched the platform all of the steers began to 
laugh. This enraged Old Jolly and he turned 
and charged directly at Dick, thinking it was 
he that had assaulted him. Dick met the on- 
slaught, as he had many another, and in a mo- 
ment there was a battle royal, with every steer 
present engaged. 

An hour later, when a hunter came up the 
canyon, trailing a deer, he saw the steers on their 
way home — all except Old J oily and Dick. They 
lay side by side, with their horns entwined — 
enemies in death, as they had been rivals in life. 

That was the last annual gathering that west- 
ern steers ever held on the Rawhide. 


Mtekrtunes of fenks 

UST HOW LONG JENKS HAD 
been on the range no one appeared to 
know. Some of the cowboys said they 
had know him, either by sight or rep- 
utation, for seven years, and Jim Mac- 
Reynolds, the tall Scotchman from 
the Cross Bar ranch, near Bordeaux, 
claimed that he had become ac- 
quainted with Jenks just ten years 
before, and that he was then a full grown steer. 

It did not matter, however, to Jenks what the 
cowboys said of him. All he was interested in 
was living as long as possible. But Jenks’ days 
were numbered and he was now on his way to 
market to be sold and turned into beef. That is 
how he came to be waiting at the shipping yards 
at Chadron, with a lot of other cattle. 

Jenks had been sulky ever since he was 
rounded up and brought in off the range. He 
realized keenly that he had played his last game 
of deception and stood a good chance of going 
where so many of his acquaintances had gone. 



MISFORTUNES OF JENKS 


135 


A freight train from the West was expected at 
midnight, and while the cattle rested and waited 
to be loaded Jenks told the story of his life and 
how he managed to prolong it. “I don’t know 
exactly where I was born/’ began Jenks, in reply 
to a question from a little spotted steer, with 
bench legs and a stubby nose, “and it doesn’t 
matter. It might have been in Texas, and it 
might have been up in Idaho or Montana; or 
perhaps I never was born at all, but just 
growed.” 

“But you are certainly here now, aren’t you?” 
queried a dark brown steer, with one horn in 
the bone-yard. 

“Yes, I am here now,” answered Jenks; “but 
where will I be ten days from now? That’s 
what’s worrying me.” 

“I guess you will get through, somehow,” said 
Old Brindle, who had been fattened up for the 
market. “You always have before, at any rate.” 

Jenks made no reply, but continued : “The first 
important event in my life happened when I was 
a little calf about three months old. I lived on 
a ranch near Fall Biver Falls, not far from Hot 
Springs, South Dakota, where there were a great 
many other calves and a good many young cows 


136 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

and young steers. One day while I was wading 
in the water a queer shaped animal, which I 
learned afterwards was a water witch, came up 
out of the river and said she would tell my for- 
tune if I would get her a bunch of green grass. 
Green grass up that way is not so plentiful as in 
some other sections of the country, as some of 
you know, and it is hard to find any long enough 
to be pulled up and carried for a distance. How- 
ever, I knew of a small canyon down the river a 
mile or so, where I had seen quite a bit growing, 
and I decided to go after it. The queer animal 
advised me to hurry, and I started. In two 
hours I returned, but could see nothing of the 
water witch. I had just began to eat the grass 
myself when the water parted right in front of 
me, and there was the witch. ‘Jenks, you are 
foolish/ she said. ‘I can give you information 
that will be worth a great deal more to you than 
a little green grass.’ ‘Forgive me/ I replied; ‘I 
thought you had gone/ and for the first time I 
took a good look at her. She had a head like 
that of an ordinary cow, except that there was 
but one horn, located directly in the forehead. 
The neck was also like a cow’s, but from the 
shoulders to the tip of her tail she was a fish, 


MISFORTUNES OF JENKS 


137 


except that she had four wings, which folded np 
in little pockets when she was swimming about. 

“After the witch had eaten the grass, I said 
to her, ‘Now tell my fortune.’ ‘All right,’ she 
replied. ‘In the first place there is a look in 
your eyes that bodes no profit to your owner; 
and your bones are not the right shape. You 
have teeth like an alligator. You are what is 
known as a scrub, and while this does not please 
your master it may be the means of preserving 
your life for a number of years if you will fol- 
low my advice.’ I assured her I was ready to do 
whatever she might bid me. 

“ ‘As I said a little while ago,’ continued the 
water witch, ‘you are not of good blood — in fact 
you are what the boys on the range call a 
“worthless critter,” yet you can be made profit- 
able if you grow and take on flesh. Your appe- 
tite, I see by the lines in your face, is a healthy 
one, and may lead to your ruin if you don’t learn 
to curb it. I also see by the streaks in your eyes 
that you have an abnormal cud, which, if trained 
properly, would sustain you for five or six weeks 
without food. All that you would require is 
water. You are too young to know what a 
round-up is, yet this will all come to you in good 


138 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

time. What yon want to do is to learn to pre- 
pare for the round-up, and escape. 

“ ‘It will be some time/ continued the witch, 
‘before you are in danger of being shipped to 
market, but you had better begin practicing. A 
round-up is held twice each year — fall and 
spring. Keep your ears open and you will hear 
the older cattle talking of it weeks before it takes 
place. Whenever you hear talk of this kind 
gradually stop eating and begin chewing your 
cud. This will cause you to grow thinner and 
thinner, and by the time the cowboys arrive you 
will be so scrawny that you will be let alone, ex- 
cept that you may have a branding iron placed 
on you. Now this is about all there is to say/ 
concluded the water witch, ‘except to add that if 
you will practice what I have told you it will be 
a long time before your carcass makes its ap- 
pearance on the chopping block.’ ” 

The long, loud whistle of an approaching train, 
on its way in from Cheyenne, attracted the at- 
tention of Jenks and his companions, and they 
thought for a moment that the time for their 
shipment had come. The train came and passed 
by, however, and the cattle remained in the yard. 

“As I was about to say when that engine 


MISFORTUNES OF JENKS 


139 


whistled,” resumed Jenks, “I began at once to 
practice what the water witch told me to, and 
by the time I was a little over a year old I could 
live six weeks with nothing to sustain me but 
water. When I was about two years old I heard 
a cowboy say, ‘That critter ought to be killed to 
make room for one that will fatten.’ ‘I will 
trade him off/ remarked another man, and he 
did. Two weeks later I was on a ranch near 
Casper. 

“Well, to make a long story short, I changed 
from one range to another for I can’t tell you 
how long, until I finally wound up down here 
with a bunch of you B-K-X fellows, and you 
know the rest.” 

“But why didn’t you try your scheme here?” 
asked a big fourteen-hundred-pound steer, as he 
got up to stretch his legs. 

“I did, but it wouldn’t work,” replied Jenks. 
“I guess they got onto me, and I now see my end 
as plainly as if it were written in letters as large 
as a wagon bow.” 

“What do you mean?” asked the fat steer of 
the party. 

“I had a dream,” replied Jenks; “and that 
settled it for me.” 


140 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“Tell us the dream,” insisted several steers in 
chorus. 

“Perhaps you had eaten something that didn’t 
agree with you,” ventured a young steer, who 
was occasionally troubled with indigestion after 
he had filled his stomach too full of alkali water. 

“No, it couldn’t have been that,” explained 
Jenks; “because I had not eaten a mouthful for 
over a month. 

“But I was going to tell you about the dream. 
I dreamed I was flying through the air swifter 
than the wind, when all at once I heard my name 
called. I got up and looked around, but could 
see no living thing near me. I lay down to go 
to sleep at last, but as soon as I got drowsy my 
name was called again. This continued, at in- 
tervals, for several hours, it seemed to me, but 
perhaps it was only for a short space of time, 
and at last I slept soundly, and as I slept there 
stood before me the old water witch that had 
taught me to beat the round-up. 

“ ‘Take a seat on the sand,’ I tried to say, but 
the strange figure seemingly did not hear me. 
She beat the air a time or two with her wings 
and then said: ‘Jenks, all things must have an 
end. Mine came, and yours is nigh. You have 


MISFORTUNES OF JENKS 


141 


been a faithful pupil, but advanced ideas have 
been your undoing. It has been learned that it 
never pays to keep on the range a steer that 
won’t take on flesh within a reasonable time. 
You know whether this affects you or not. Good- 
by/ and in an instant I was left alone — wide 
awake as I am now, and yet I could hardly — ” 

Jenks never finished his sentence. The time 
for loading the cattle had come, and as the 
switch engine began to push the empty cars down 
the siding the congested condition of the yard 
became less and less apparent, until finally it 
was empty — that is, save for one black figure 
that lay up against the side of the fence. One 
of the loading crew walked over and gave the 
object a prod with his loading pole and said: 
“Get up, you rascal,” but the object in the cor- 
ner did not move. “Oh, Bud,” called the man, 
“here’s a dead steer.” 

A lighted lantern was brought out, and, as it 
flashed its rays on the still form, Bud said : “The 
last steer on earth that I would have expected to 
die. He must have been frightened to death.” 

And he had been. It was Jenks. 


10 


*$re the %rth fork of the 9latte 

OVE OYER, DAN, AND DON’T TRY 
to take up all the room there is, or 
when Rattler comes back he will not 
be able to get into the hole.” 

“Move over yourself,” replied Dan, 
and to show that he meant what he 
said he gave his chum a pinch with 
his sharp teeth that brought a cry of 
pain. 

Dan was one chubby little prairie dog and 
Billy was the other. They lived together in a 
big snake hole, as is the habit of prairie dogs on 
the western plains, and had as their companion, 
Rattler, the largest snake on the divide — a mon- 
ster that boasted of seventeen rattles and a but- 
ton on the tip of his tail. 

Dan and Billy had come over from the Belle 
Fourche range the year before and “squatted” in 
the home of Rattler, and that is how they came 
to be known all up and down the North Fork 
of the Platte as “Rattler’s Kids.” 

Rattler had been away all day, they supposed, 



ON THE NORTH FORK OF THE PLATTE 143 


for he was getting ready to go on a hunt when 
they left at sunrise on a visit up the valley. 
They had expected to find him in the hole when 
they got back. 

“I can’t see what on earth is keeping Rattler,” 
said Billy, as he returned for the twentieth time 
from the mouth of the hole after a tour of inspec- 
tion. 

“Perhaps he has met with an accident,” said 
Dan, but that was no solution of the mystery. 

The evening wore on and the night shades 
gathered over the range, but Rattler did not 
come. At midnight both of the little prairie 
dogs cuddled down close to each other to go to 
sleep. Just as Billy began to snore a wee bit 
Dan shook him and said: “Remember, Billy, if 
Rattler is dead that I am to be boss of this hole 
in the future.” “Not if I know it,” sleepily re- 
plied Billy, and then they both went off into the 
land of dreams. 

Both of the dogs were awake early the next 
morning and went out to see the sun come up. 
After the rays had flooded the plain and valley, 
and the sage hen began to fill the air with the 
old familiar cry, Billy turned to his friend and 
said : “Dan, there is no use in worrying. Rattler 


144 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

will come back if he is alive, and if he is dead, 
why, then, I’ll see you don’t starve.” 

On the banks of the Platte grow a number of 
spindling red and green willows, and near their 
roots are wild artichokes and insects. Both of 
these were favorites with Dan and Billy, and 
there they went for their morning meal. They 
dug and dug, but not an artichoke or an insect 
could they find, try as hard as they might. 
Finally the two little dogs gave up in disgust 
and went back to their hole at the top of a wind 
swept hillock. 

“Perhaps Rattler has come home,” said one. 
“Let us go down and see,” the other replied, but 
Rattler was not there. Finding their search in 
vain they both came out and sat down at the top 
of the hole in a melancholy frame of mind. 

Dan was the first to speak. Suddenly he dis- 
covered that there was not another prairie dog 
in sight, and turning to Billy he said: “Seems 
awful lonesome out here. I wonder where all 
the dogs can be?” 

“I was just thinking the same myself,” replied 
Billy, and they both hopped down off the hillock 
and ran to the homes of several of the colony, 
but they were empty. Then they went the rounds 


ON THE NORTH FORK OF THE PLATTE 145 

from hole to hole, but not a prairie dog could 
they find. Except for themselves the village was 
deserted. 

Frantically each little fellow ran up and down 
the level stretch and called in shrill, piping 
voices for their comrades. Only an echo from a 
far off cliff answered them. 

“Something’s going to happen,” at last said 
Billy. “Guess something has already happened,” 
replied Dan, with a merry twinkle in his eye. 
“Guess you and I are left alone.” 

“Don’t try to be funny,” replied Billy. “We 
must investigate. There are just two things that 
could have made all the prairie dogs and Rattler 
run away. One is a sand storm coming and the 
other that the water supply has given out. You 
know we were away all of yesterday, and neither 
of us can tell what’s up.” 

All the desire to become leader, in case some- 
thing had happened to Rattler, had left Dan, and 
he was only too glad to listen to reason and profit 
by the advice of one older than he. 

For fully five minutes both little dogs put 
their heads between their fore-legs and thought 
and thought. Finally Billy looked up, and see- 
ing Dan was crying, said : “Brace up, old fellow, 


146 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

and let us get to work. Now you take the row 
of holes along the upper ridge and go into each 
one of them and see if they are dry to the bottom. 
I’ll take the river row.” 

For a long time both were busy dodging in and 
out of holes. Sometimes one would be down in 
the depths of the earth while the other was up 
on top, but occasionally they would both be at 
the surface at the same time. When this oc- 
curred Dan would cry out: “No water here, 
Billy,” and Billy in turn would say : “Not a drop 
over here.” 

At last the village had been thoroughly 
searched, and no water found. 

At the noon hour they went out on the upland 
and ate a lunch from the buds and leaves of a 
friendly sage bush. After they had finished one 
of them suggested that they go over to the river 
and get a drink. This they started to do, but 
when they came to the bank the river was as dry 
as their own little throats. 

“What on earth can this mean?” inquired Dan. 
“It merely means,” replied Billy, “that the river 
has sunk out of sight on this side and perhaps 
come up on the other side. It has done it be- 
fore, and why not now?” 


ON THE NORTH FORK OF THE PLATTE 147 


“And the colony, together with Rattler, left 
on that account yesterday when we were away,” 
said Dan. “Looks like it,” replied his compan- 
ion. Then they went up on the top of a sand 
dune. From there, by shading their eyes, they 
thought they could see in the distance small fig- 
ures moving about in the open. 

Shortly afterwards two little prairie dogs 
might have been seen crossing a wide sandy bar, 
stopping as they passed along to play with a 
glistening pebble here or a broken bit of shell 
there. At last they were on the opposite side of 
the river, and as they popped their heads up over 
the rise they saw hundreds of their old friends 
hurrying about digging new homes. Lying in a 
great coil on the sunny side of a little mound 
was Rattler — happy and contented. 

As Dan and Billy came up Rattler raised his 
head and said: “That was a good joke on you 
two, wasn’t it?” 

“Why did you not tell us?” insisted Billy. 
“Neither of us would have treated you that 
way.” 

“The river began to sink soon after you left 
the village, and I saw that, while it was not 
going to come to the surface very soon, if we 


148 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

came over on the south side we could easily reach 
water. I knew you would find out the cause of 
our move and follow. I could have left some of 
the colony there to tell you, but we all thought it 
would be a good joke on you to make you hunt 
us.” 

Billy and Dan set to work, and in a short time 
had a new hole dug. When it was finished they 
and Rattler moved in, and they were living there 
happily the last time Jim Gullion, the cowboy, 
visited the North Fork of the Platte. 


jumper and Pet’s Wedding Prip 


UMPER WAS A LITTLE BROWN 
bear who lived on a beautiful island 
in the Missouri river, opposite the old 
Mormon town of Florence, one of the 
early white settlements in Nebraska. 
It was a cunning little island, and its 
wave-lapped shores glistened in the 
sunlight, and the jolly little sunfish 
played in the water and darted 
hither and thither among the drooping twigs of 
the pussy-willows that dipped into the river. 
Many a pleasant hour had Jumper spent there, 
fishing in the rushing waters and gathering the 
luscious wild berries that grew in abundance 
further back in the woods. 

Juniper was not the only brown bear on the 
island, and for this he was very grateful. There 
were others, and among them was a little brown 
bear named Tot, and a beautiful little bear she 
was. Many joyous days had Jumper and Tot 
spent roaming through the woods, where Jumper 
gallantly gathered berries for her, or wandering 



150 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

on the sandy shore, where Jumper caught sun- 
fish and gave the prettiest and best to his little 
sweetheart. The days were all happy days, and 
with Jumper and Tot life was always sunshine, 
for love was young and fair. 

One day, as they sat in the shade and ate the 
berries that Jumper had gathered, Jumper 
looked up into Tot’s eyes and said : 

“Tot, I believe I’ll get married.” 

“I have been thinking about that, too,” said 
Tot. 

Then Jumper looked at Tot, and Tot looked at 
Jumper, and what each thought made them smile 
with supreme happiness. 

And that is the way Jumper and Tot became 
engaged. 

Their wedding was a quiet affair. Bears, you 
know, are not given to big weddings and flowers 
and dinners, and all that sort of thing. Besides, 
Jumper and Tot were not wealthy, and Tot in- 
sisted on having everything done in a way to cost 
little money, for Tot was a wise and economical 
little bear. But it was a happy wedding, and all 
the bears were hearty in their congratulations, 
and gave Jumper and Tot many handsome and 
useful presents. 


JUMPER AND TOT'S WEDDING TRIP 151 

Usually newly married folks take a wedding 
trip, and Jumper and Tot were not exceptions. 
Jumper had heard of an excursion to the far 
northwest over the “Overland Route/' and with 
Tot's consent had purchased tickets. It was to 
be the trip of their lives, because it was into a 
country strange to them, and over a great rail- 
road whose fame had penetrated even into Bear 
land. 

When the great locomotive came puffing and 
steaming into the great Union Station at Omaha, 
dragging its long string of beautiful cars behind 
it, Tot was sadly frightened, but Jumper re- 
assured her and said there was really no danger 
— though even J umper's heart beat a little faster. 

They boarded the train and were soon seated 
comfortably in their section of the handsome 
“ordinary" car. Jumper, with the liberality 
that characterizes all happy bridegrooms, wanted 
to take a Pullman Palace car, but Tot refused, 
saying the “ordinary" was just as comfortable, 
and much cheaper, and the money saved would go 
a long ways toward buying the things they would 
need when they went to housekeeping. It is easy 
to see that Jumper had secured a jewel of a wife. 

Right in the start Jumper had worry. He was 


152 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

so excited over his wedding, and the great jour- 
ney, that he hardly knew what to do. When the 
conductor came around for the tickets Jumper 
could not find them. He hurriedly searched 
every pocket, looked in the lining of his hat, 
tumbled the things out of Tot’s handbag, and 
mashed a lemon pie in the lunch basket. But all 
to no purpose. The tickets could not be found. 

The jolly and kind-hearted conductor saw that 
Jumper was excited, and hastened to put him at 
ease, by saying, “O, you’ll find them somewhere, 
I guess. I’ll go on through the train and come 
back again. Don’t worry about them.” 

“He’s an awfully nice man,” said Tot, looking 
after the conductor; and there and then Jumper 
had his first touch of jealousy. 

Jumper resumed his search for the tickets, but 
he could not find them. 

Then he said mournfully, “I know he’ll put us 
off at the next stop.” 

“ Jumper Bear,” exclaimed Tot, “didn’t you 
put those tickets in the leg of your left boot?” 

“That’s where they are!” shouted Jumper so 
loudly that every passenger in the car turned to 
look at him, and Tot blushed rosily. “I put ’em 
there because I was afraid of being robbed, and 


JUMPER AND TOT’S WEDDING TRIP 153 


I knew nobody would think of looking in my 
boots.” 

When the conductor returned Jumper handed 
him the tickets, with a sheepish smile. 

“Found them, did you?” asked the conductor. 

“Yes, sir; I just mislaid them for a moment,” 
replied J umper ; and Tot did not deign to inform 
the conductor that she, not Jumper, had discov- 
ered their whereabouts. 

After this little excitement Jumper and Tot 
settled back in their seats and prepared to enjoy 
the scenery. The green fields, the shimmering 
Platte river, winding in and out like a silver rib- 
bon, the verdure-clad bluffs rising in the distance 
— all these things made a wonderful picture for 
Jumper and Tot, whose lives had been spent on 
the little island in the Missouri river. 

“Isn’t it glorious?” whispered Tot. 

“Perfectly grand,” replied Jumper, and his 
strong brown paw clasped the little paw of Tot 
and gave it a loving squeeze. 

Jumper thought nobody would see that little 
clasp, but they did ; and as it proved that he and 
Tot were just married, their troubles began. 

At the first stop a passenger slipped out and 
sent a message to Fremont, telling a big brown 


154 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

bear there to play policeman and come aboard 
the train pretending to look for a bear named 
Jumper. When Fremont was reached a great 
brown bear, wearing a star as big as a dinner 
plate, boarded the train and hurried into the car 
where Jumper and Tot sat. The big bear easily 
recognized Jumper, and stopping in front of him 
growled : 

“Pm looking for a little brown bear named 
Jumper. He’s wanted for some crime in Omaha.” 
And as he spoke the big bear jingled his hand- 
cuffs and looked very ferocious. 

Poor Jumper was frightened half out of his 
wits, and could not say a word. But Tot jumped 
up and shook her paw in the big bear’s face and 
said she’d protect her husband from such insults. 

Jumper knew he had committed no crime, but 
he was afraid the big bear would take him and 
thus spoil his wedding journey. So he did not 
dare tell his name. Finally he asked : 

“What do you want him for?” 

“For fishing on Florence island on Sunday,” 
growled the big bear. 

By this time everybody on the car was laugh- 
ing, but just then the train started and the big 
bear had to run out and jump off. 


JUMPER AND TOT^S WEDDING TRIP 155 

“It’s a good tiling for yon your name is not 
Jumper,” lie growled as he hastened down the 
aisle. 

“Gracious me,” whispered Jumper to Tot. 
“Who’d a thought anybody was watching us that 
Sunday I caught the sunfish for you?” 

At Schuyler Jumper left the train to get a 
newspaper for himself and some fruit for Tot, 
and while he was standing on the depot platform 
the train started. 

“Hi, there!” shouted the station agent. “Jump 
on or you’ll get left !” 

Jumper made a leap for the first car step and 
managed to scramble on, but, alas ! it was a vesti- 
bule and the door was closed. There Jumper 
clung, unable to get in, and not daring to let go, 
and the train gathering speed every moment. It 
was a perilous position, and Jumper held on for 
dear life. Fortunately for him there was no dust, 
else he might have been choked; and after the 
train had gathered full speed he was not both- 
ered by smoke or cinders, for the train went so 
fast they trailed over the tops of the cars and 
left him free. But it was a sad, tired and much 
bedraggled Jumper that dropped to the depot 
platform at Columbus and hastened into the car 


156 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

where Tot sat. He found her in tears and al- 
most hysterical, for she thought her J umper was 
lost forever. She could hardly believe her eyes 
when Jumper appeared before her, and he had 
to speak twice and kiss her gently before she 
realized that it was indeed her husband. 

When Jumper told her of his dangerous ride 
she almost fainted, and clung to him as if she 
never would let him get out of her sight again. 
The other passengers congratulated Jumper on 
his narrow escape, and told Tot that she should 
be proud of a husband that had the courage to 
hang on, rather than leave his wife to travel 
alone. And Tot was proud, too. You could tell 
that by the light in her big eyes. 

Before the train left Columbus, Edgar Howard 
came aboard and, recognizing Jumper, insisted 
on having an interview. Jumper told all about 
his thrilling ride, and Mr. Howard said he would 
write a story about it. Perhaps he did, but 
J umper never saw it, because — but that’s getting 
ahead of the story. But Jumper did not tell 
about the joke his fellow passengers had played 
on him at Fremont. If Mr. Howard reads this 
he will see what a funny story about Jumper he 
missed that day. 


JUMPER AND TOT'S WEDDING TRIP 157 


It was a beautiful ride across the green-clad 
prairies of Nebraska to North Platte, where they 
arrived just after the sun had dipped below the 
horizon and left the world in semi-darkness. 
Jumper had promised to get Tot some of the 
lovely cactus blossoms like they had seen during 
the day, and when the train stopped to change 
engines he hastened to alight. By striking a 
match he was able to locate quite a bunch of the 
blossoms, and he hastily began digging up a few 
with his knife. Suddenly he gave a loud cry, 
dropped most of the blossoms and scrambled 
back into the car. 

“ What's the matter, dear?” anxiously inquired 
Tot. 

“Tottie,” he moaned, “Pm as good as dead. 
Good-bye.” 

“O, tell me what is the matter, Jumper!” 
shrieked Tot. “What is the matter?” 

“I have been bitten by a rattlesnake,” moaned 
Jumper. 

Tot shrieked for help, and the brakeman, con- 
ductor, trainboy, porter and most of the passen- 
gers hurried to w T here she sat. 

“My husband has been bitten by a deadly rat- 
tlesnake,” moaned Tot. 


11 


358 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“Hyar, dar,” said the porter; “let me see dat 
snake bite.” 

Jumper held out his paw, but when the porter 
saw it a grim smile stole across his black face, 
and he said : 

“Yah, yah! Dat’s no snake bite; dat ain’t. 
Nothin’ ter worry erbout.” 

“What is it, then?” asked Jumper, looking re- 
lieved. 

“Nuffin’ only jus’ got a lot o’ dem nasty cactus 
stickers in yer paw,” said the porter. 

Jumper looked foolish, but Tot was radiant 
with delight, and she gave the porter half a 
dollar. 

For an hour or two Jumper was busy picking 
the stickers out of his paw, and for several days 
it was quite sore. 

Nothing else of importance happened until the 
train reached Ogalalla, and there Tot declared 
she must have some lemonade. Jumper hurried 
into a lunch room, but the proprietor said he had 
nothing to drink save some red pop. So Jumper 
bought six bottles and hastened back into the 
car. He was not accustomed to patent stoppers, 
and when he tried to open a bottle the stopper 
suddenly gave way and he was drenched from 


JUMPER AND TOT^S WEDDING TRIP 159 


head to paws with the stuff. He spluttered and 
choked and gasped, and when he saw Tot 
laughing at him he almost became angry. But 
he soon saw how funny it was and joined in the 
laugh that went round the car. 

“You careless bear,” said Tot; “if you can’t do 
better than that I’ll get right off the train and 
walk back to Omaha.” 

Jumper knew she was only fooling, so he 
smiled, and managed to open the next bottle 
without accident. The porter packed the re- 
maining bottles in ice and they were greatly en- 
joyed later in the day. 

The smooth green plains began to give way to 
hills, and the hills in turn gave way to the rug- 
ged mountains, whose snow-capped peaks pierced 
the skies, and Jumper and Tot watched the ever- 
changing colors and wonders with delighted eyes. 
Away in the distance the backbone of the great 
Rocky mountains appeared, and the grandeur 
impressed Jumper and Tot so much that they 
could say nothing. All they could do was to gasp 
and feast their eyes upon the beautiful sight. 

Then they arrived at Sherman, two miles south 
of which, on a high promontory, stands the rug- 
ged Ames monument, overlooking Dale creek, a 


160 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

picturesque little stream that winds hither and 
thither at the foot of rugged peaks, and through 
canyons that seemingly have no bottom. When 
the train shot into the Sherman tunnel Tot 
shrieked and make a grab for Jumper. She held 
on for dear life, not knowing what was coming 
next, but when the train emerged from the tunnel, 
and the sunlight filled the car, she found that in- 
stead of holding onto Jumper she was holding 
onto the colored porter, who was grinning and 
showing his white teeth. 

“Oh !” gasped Tot, loosing her hold and sinking 
back into her seat. 

And Jumper laughed and laughed and laughed. 

The ride across the mountains was full of won- 
ders. They never tired of the scenery, and the 
giant mountains were a never-ending source of 
delight. At Green River, Jumper and Tot 
alighted from the train and went into the eating 
station. Jumper had been in Omaha two or three 
times and eaten at lunch counters, but they were 
new to Tot, and she did not know what to order. 
Finally she told the waiter to bring her a wafer 
and a cup of tea. 

“That’s not enough, dear,” said Jumper. 

Tot thought it was, however, and would not 


JUMPER AND TOT'S WEDDING TRIP 161 

order anything else. But their fellow passen- 
gers noted that Tot ate most of the substantial 
lunch that Jumper ordered. 

At Granger Tot said again that she was hun- 
gry, and this time she knew what to order. She 
ordered fish, and ate enough to satisfy the crav- 
ings of her appetite. Jumper, too, had a fish 
dinner, and as they returned to the train he 
smacked his lips with satisfaction. 

When the train passed Leroy, Tot heard 
some one say that Aspen tunnel was about 
twelve miles up the line. Just then the porter 
entered the car, and Tot turned to Jumper, 
saying : 

“I won’t stay in the car if that porter does not 
leave.” 

Jumper, remembering the Sherman tunnel, 
laughed, but Tot insisted. 

“See hyar, Missus Bear,” said the porter. 
“Fse jus’ gotter stay in dis car. I’se gotter light 
de lamps an’ see dat dey bu’n. Sorry, Missus 
Bear, but if eider one o’ us gotter leave, it sure 
done been you, ’cause I’se jus’ gotter stay.” 

“Jumper, do you hear what that colored per- 
son said to me?” exclaimed Tot. 

“Yes, dear,” said Jumper; “but the porter is 
right. Just sit still, and you will be safe.” 


162 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

“All right,” said Tot. “But if that colored per- 
son comes close to me while we are in the tunnel, 
Fll make him sorry he’s alive.” 

Everybody in the car joined in the laugh that 
followed, and Tot blushed more than ever. 

“Low bridge!” shouted some one, and the train 
darted into the tunnel. The gigantic walls of 
the structure were all that could be seen as the 
train rumbled along with lightning speed, send- 
ing echoes far and near. At last it emerged into 
daylight, and not till then did Tot notice that 
there had been no darkness in the car — that is, 
nothing dark save the colored porter, and he 
looked at Tot and grinned a wide and expansive 
grin. 

At Ogden, Jumper told Tot that he would like 
to live there, in the shadow of the Wasatch range, 
and play among the pretty cliffs of Weber and 
Echo canyons, but she demurred. She had read 
about the Mormons, and said that if Jumper in- 
sisted on getting off she would return to Flor- 
ence. Jumper tried to explain, but Tot would 
not listen to him. He persisted, but finally Tot 
grew very angry and refused to speak to him 
until long after the train had left Ogden and was 
well on the way to Pocatello. 


JUMPER AND TOT'S WEDDING TRIP 163 


At Pocatello Jumper wanted to make a side 
trip to the Yellowstone National Park. He told 
Tot wliat a delightful place it was, and reminded 
her that the ‘National Association of Brown 
Bears was in session there. Tot wanted very 
much to go, for she had heard a great deal about 
the wonderful park, but as she had neglected to 
bring along her decollette ball gown, she refused. 

So they remained on board, and for miles and 
miles traveled through a beautiful country — on 
past the great Shoshone Falls, where the wild 
red men used to worship their Manitou, with 
the glistening spray falling about them, pretty 
as so many liquid diamonds. They skirted pre- 
cipitous gorges, skimmed over seemingly bottom- 
less canyons, climbed great mountains, and sped 
along the banks of murmuring mountain 
streams, that tumbled in foam and spray over the 
giant rocks and hurried away to the ocean. 

At last they came to the Columbia river, and 
when Jumper saw a lot of men, in queer-shaped 
boats, moving about on its broad surface, he 
hunted up the conductor and asked : 

“What are those men doing there?” 

“Catching fish.” 

“Hurrah! Here’s where I get off!” shouted 
Jumper. 


164 FAIRY TALES OF THE WESTERN RANGE 

He began gathering up the baggage, but Tot 
laid a paw on his shoulder and said : 

“You can get off if you want to, but Fm going 
on to Portland.” 

That settled it. Jumper returned the handbag 
to the rack and set the basket under the seat. He 
growled a little, but Tot was firm, and soon he 
had forgotten the fishermen while watching the 
scenery of the Columbia river. 

Jumper and Tot spent several days in Port- 
land and along the coast, and enjoyed every 
minute of the time. Who does not? There is al- 
ways something new and strange and wonderful 
to meet the eye in that great country. 

But honeymoons have an end — that is, most 
of them do. At last the time came when Jumper 
and Tot must start back for Omaha, for Jum- 
per’s money was giving out. Indeed, Jumper 
was wondering if he wouldn’t have to wire his 
father for more money. 

“I wish we could stay here forever,” said Jum- 
per, as they wended their way to the depot. 

“So do I,” said Tot. 

“What’s that? Want to remain in this coun- 
try?” 

Jumper and Tot turned hurriedly to see who 
it was, and saw a man walking behind them. 


JUMPER AND TOT’S WEDDING TRIP 165 


“Pardon me,” said the man. “I heard you say 
you would like to remain here. We can fix it 
easily enough.” 

“How?” asked Jumper and Tot in a breath. 

“Well, I’m the manager of a big menagerie, 
and we are very anxious to secure the services of 
two handsome brown bears like you. We will 
pay you good salaries, treat you nicely, and as 
we travel all over this country, you can enjoy 
yourselves to your hearts’ content.” 

Jumper looked at Tot, and Tot looked at 
Jumper. 

“I’ll leave it to you,” said Jumper. 

“I’ll do just as you say,” said Tot. 

It was enough. An hour later they were in 
the employ of the menagerie man. 

That’s how the little brown bears from Flor- 
ence Island came to be living on the Pacific coast. 

Also, this explains why Jumper never knew 
whether Edgar Howard wrote the story of his 
car-step ride between Schuyler and Columbus. 






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JUL 28 1902 

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JUL. 28 1902 







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